


it's beginning to look a lot like christmas

by clarkedarling



Series: modern sidlotte [1]
Category: Sanditon (TV 2019), Sanditon - Jane Austen
Genre: 12 days of xmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 06:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21797497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkedarling/pseuds/clarkedarling
Summary: a series of festive one-shots. enjoy, and happy holidays!
Relationships: Charlotte Heywood/Sidney Parker
Series: modern sidlotte [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1570747
Comments: 156
Kudos: 172





	1. an impossible task

**Author's Note:**

> this one is short but sweet, i hope you all like it! i'm also planning on writing two fuller-length stories, including a take on series 2, having just drafted them out.

Having thirteen siblings had it’s many pros and cons.

Pros; loneliness was something Charlotte was spared during her childhood for she always had people to play with, if she couldn’t do something (reach a shelf, for example) there was bound to be somebody who could, there was always somebody to listen to her stories, team sports were never an issue, her siblings always had her back at school and indeed for life.

Cons; wrapping their Christmas presents.

She adored buying presents for people, even considered gift-giving to be one of her talents. However that was where her talents ended. She could hardly wrap her lunch securely, let alone wrap presents. There was far too much hassle involved, the paper cuts inevitable. She also had trouble remembering to stick tags on the right people’s gifts.

When her husband returned home from work in the evening, the carnage was borderline embarrassing. She was sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by an assortment of wrapping paper, presents big and small, sellotape to stuck to her every limb, and a pair of scissors resting precariously on her lap.

Setting down his briefcase, Sidney leant down and pressed a kissed to the top of her head. “It looks like a festive bomb has been dropped,” he teased her, with a grin. As she huffed, wiping her brow, he laughed, peeling off a piece of sellotape from her chin. “How many have you done so far?”

Charlotte groaned. “Three,” she replied, pouting her lip.

Without hesitating, Sidney bent down to sit beside her, loosening his tie. “Who’s have you wrapped?”

“I’ve wrapped Toby’s LEGO box, Zach’s train set, and Ali’s make-up brushes,” she sighed, gesturing to the abysmal job she had made of her younger siblings’s presents. They were all jagged corners and vast gaps.

Sidney picked up the most atrocious of the three, turning it over in his palm. “I mean . . . you’ve done a fair job,” he said, trying to be positive. She loved him for it, though knew it was a blatant lie.

“They’re terrible aren’t they.”

“Well . . . yes, they are,” he admitted. He offered her a consolatory squeeze of the hand and a charming smile that filled her with comfort. “Don’t worry, my love, I’ll help. How many are left?”

“All of these,” she gestured to a daunting pile of presents in the centre of the room. Even Sidney gulped when his eyes clapped onto the pile. “I’ve still got my other brothers's and sisters's to wrap, _and_ my sisters-in-law, _and_ my nieces and nephews, _and_ my parents's, _and_ your siblings's, _and_ your nieces’s and nephew’s.”

One of the promises Sidney made to Charlotte when they married was that he would try and be more positive, a promise that he hadn’t broken yet. “That’s fine, we can do it.”

“That’s just the family’s presents. Friends are over there.” She pointed towards the dining room table, where a smaller yet no less intimidating load waited for them.

His smile only faltered for a split second. “I’ll pour us a glass of wine each and we can make a start.”

At the mention of wine Charlotte felt her tension ease a little, her shoulders relaxing. She watched her husband slip into their humble kitchen and heard the _*pop*_ of a wine cork. Moments later he returned with their glasses and she couldn’t help thinking, as she looked up at him, that she had perhaps married the best-looking man in the world. He was weary, the bags testament to his exhaustion, but he genuinely seemed overjoyed to see her, his infectious grin extending to his rich chestnut eyes. Whilst other men looked like they were playing dress-up in their suits, Sidney flourished in tailored trousers and cotton shirts. Her personal favourite was times like this, when he’d just returned from work, and his tie had been long discarded, his sleeves rolled up, the top buttons undone. She found him wholly irresistible.

She took the glass from his hand when a thought crossed her mind. She leant in to kiss him, at first a soft peck. She persisted, however, her lips leaving a wine-stained trail along his jaw and down his neck. He moaned, his spare hand sliding down her back, teasing the hem of her shirt, when all of a sudden he pulled back.

“As much as I love your train of thought, darling, we ought to get cracking on the wrapping,” he told her, sounding no less disappointed than she felt.

Deflated and defeated, her distraction tactic failing, Charlotte turned to the presents in a huff. “We know far too many people,” she said in an offhanded comment, scooping up the rugby jersey she had got for her oldest brother, Will.

Sidney snorted. “In truth, there’s far too many Heywoods,” he replied. “How many are there now?”

“Just in the immediate family?” she sighed, beginning to count them in her head. She had an endless amount of cousins and great-aunts whose names were long forgotten. “Easily twenty-five.” Sidney whistled through his teeth, the number never ceasing to amaze him.

“You’ve got my eight beat,” he said with a smile, holding out the sellotape for her, ensuring it couldn’t get stuck anywhere.

“My twenty-five is _your_ twenty-five,” she reminded him, softly. She then paused. “Twenty-six in February, come to think of it.” Sidney’s eyes bulged out of his head, flitting between her stomach and her expression, searching. She couldn’t help but laugh a little and shook her head. “Simon’s got a baby on the way, remember? Not me! Nice to know you think I look seven months pregnant?”

He let out a breath he’d been holding in, the colour returning to his face. “Thank God,” he muttered. Then hastily added; "Of course you don't, my love. In fact - have you lost weight?"

Ignoring his last impulsive comment, Charlotte furrowed her brow. Not that she had any news to tell him, but if she did that would have been the worst possible reaction to have received. She didn’t know he felt so strongly about not having children. “Would it really be that awful? If I was pregnant?”

Realising he was walking on thin ice, especially considering she was holding scissors, Sidney chose his next words carefully. “No, I didn’t mean it like that,” he explained, slowly. “I love kids, you know I do, and I can’t wait to have children with you. I’ve seen you with our nieces and nephews; you’re a natural. You’d be a fantastic mum.”

“But?”

“But . . . not just yet. We’ve only been married a year! I’m pushing thirty, you’re twenty-four - we’re too young to be pushing prams and bickering about catchment areas. I want to enjoy this time with you, my gorgeous, sexy wife, as a husband should, before we have to worry about children.”

Knowing what he was saying was weighted in truth - her two older brothers had all settled down far too quickly, doing the school run whilst their friends were on rugby tours in Amsterdam - she reached out and rested her hand against his cheek. “I suppose you’re right.”

Sidney instinctively leant into her touch, his faint stubble tickling the palm of her hand. “You know, I can’t help but think we’d be the best parents,” he boldly boasted, making her grin widely.

“Oh?”

“Think how good-looking they’d be,” he told her, smirking. “I mean, I might have to lock our daughters up until they’re at least twenty-five.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Our daughters? What about our sons? Imagine how many hearts they’d break.”

They both laughed, good-humouredly. Charlotte’s heart was fit-to-burst; they’d never really discussed having children before. It had cropped up, occasionally, in conversation with her parents or Tom and Mary. People had always pointed out how good they were with the little ones in their family, but they’d all had common sense not to probe a newly-married couple about babies.

“Well, whenever we do have children, we’ll be a great team, you and me,” he assured her. “Just look at what we’ve accomplished in the space of five minutes.”

To her surprise, whilst they’d been talking they’d somehow managed to wrap three presents, and they were considerably more polished than the ones she’d completed on her own. With a glass of wine and her husband by her side, the task no longer felt hopeless.


	2. the nativity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sidney gets dragged to his nieces and nephew's christmas nativity. whilst there, he is captivated by their teacher, miss heywood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone for being patient! i have been so busy, babysitting every night this week that i've had little to no time to write. however, i promise that i intend to make up for lost time!
> 
> please enjoy this new chapter! the comments have been lovely, i really appreciate people taking the time to write them.

The last thing Sidney Parker wanted to do on a Friday night was spend two hours in a cramped gym, that smelled remarkably like sweaty socks, watching a group of three to eleven year olds sing about the birth of Christ. He loved his family, truly, but they only had small parts. Alicia was one of the _many_ angels, Jenny was a sheep, and poor Henry was resigned to the chorus.

Tom and Mary, bless them, were loving every second of it. Tom had dug out his old camcorder for the occasion, despite all the other parents using their phones. Mary had baby James on her lap, and ensuring to point out his siblings every time one of them graced the stage - as if he had any inkling what was going on. She had made each of their costumes, with love and care despite not being a very adept seamstress; Alicia’s halo was lopsided, and Jenny’s tale was back-to-front. Henry, it appeared, had insisted on having a jet black beard painted on, which made him look oddly sinister and yet very amusing at the same time.

Sidney had intended to sneak in a little nap, only during the beginning half when none of the Parkers were in the scenes. However, much to his dismay, Tom had ensured that were sat in the front row, dead centre. He wanted to get an unobstructed view, apparently. So, when the moth-eaten curtains were pulled apart, revealing a somewhat gaudy set design, Sidney had to resist the urge to groan. Mary, who had an incredibly positive attitude no matter what, always glass half-full, gasped, as she enthusiastically tapped his knee. “Isn’t it fantastic!” she whispered.

It was certainly anything _but_ fantastic. “Uh huh,” was all he replied. Initially, he had made it very clear he did not want to go to the Sanditon Primary Nativity, which had upset Mary. She had put so much effort into the children’s costumes, and had even volunteered to help out after school with running errands. Feeling guilty, Sidney had apologised and blamed his poor attitude to his rough week at work. It had indeed been a dreadful week as one of their main, and usually most reliable, suppliers pulled out of a shipment due to a quality control breach. His company had been forced to find a new supplier at extremely short notice, and with Christmas so soon and deadlines to meet, it very nearly meant a drastic loss in profits.

The first fifteen minutes were excruciating to say the least. The little girl who was playing Mary was very precocious and impatient, saying all of ‘Joseph’s' lines before he had a chance to say them. Becoming a little overwhelmed by the large crowd, stood like a deer in the headlights, he remained frozen for quite a while, his mouth gaping like a fish. Stomping her feet, ‘Mary' stormed off the stage in a huff. This left ‘Joseph' alone on stage, his little eyes wide as he looked to his teachers for help.

It was at this moment that Sidney noticed a young woman, sat amongst the choir. She completely took his breath away. She had a little boy perched on her lap, the pair of them dressed like angels. While some teachers had gone the extra mile with their costumes, embarrassingly so, she was wearing a simple white cotton tea dress, her make-up complementing her angelic costume, with glittery eyeshadow and soft blush. She was beautiful, heart-stoppingly so. When the little girl thundered off stage in a strop, this teacher immediately got to her feet, and rushed on to help the startled boy.

“So sorry about that dear,” she exclaimed, squeezing his hand to comfort him. The harsh lights did nothing to diminish her beauty, instead causing her to glow. She looked between the boy and the audience, the dads now glued to the stage, perked up. “You know how my mood swings are . . . being pregnant and all.” What had been quite an uncomfortable atmosphere was immediately eased by her joke, a few parents laughing. ‘Joseph' even relaxed, chuckling a little, though it was doubtful he knew what mood swings were.

“Where’s your belly?” he laughed, pointing at her. The previous Mary had been wearing a rather lumpy pillow up her dress.

The teacher mock gasped as she glanced down, holding her flat stomach. “Thank you so much for noticing, I’ve been on a very good diet. Nothing but vegetables and - "

“Jelly beans!” he called out, giggling wildly. The audience even laughed, which helped boost the boy’s confidence.

She grinned at him, a smile that made everybody in the room sit up and pay attention. “Yes, vegetables and jelly beans, of course! Now, isn’t it time we found a donkey? My feet are getting sore.”

The donkey took his queue, as he plodded onto the stage on all fours. If it wasn’t for the comically long ears, Sidney would have thought he were a monkey. Clearly in rehearsals, ‘Mary' would climb onto the donkey’s back. However, now that ‘Mary' was being played by a woman twice his size, that prospect was now daunting. With wide-eyes, he started to shake his head. “No way are you getting on my back,” he muttered, sounding rather fearful. Once again, the audience roared with laughter.

“Look at that, the donkey talks!” the teacher exclaimed. All the children burst into laughter, as ‘Joseph' doubled over.

Sidney, and the other parents, knew the jokes weren’t funny. If he had been watching this on television he would have more than likely switched it over to something else. However, the jokes weren’t for their benefit, they were for the nerve-stricken children. This teacher had loosened them all up, allowed them to enjoy the play. Their reactions as she made pun after pun was what made them smile.

“Who’s that?” he asked Mary, in a hushed tone.

“That’s Miss Heywood,” she replied, equally as quiet. She was watching the nativity, transfixed. “She’s wonderful, isn’t she? The kids love her.”

“_That’s_ Miss Heywood?” he repeated, incredulous. Somehow, he’d pictured a much older, perhaps a little rounder woman whenever the children had mentioned her, not a very pretty twenty-something year old.

Suddenly the prospect of sitting through a two hour play was made ten times more bearable.

-

When the play had finished, the audience all got to their feet, cheering and clapping. Miss Heywood, her smile infectious, stood on the end as all the performers on stage joined hands and bowed. Even Sidney stood up, unable to tear his eyes away from her.

Everyone filtered backstage, as all the parents got up to congratulate the children. Tom and Mary, eager to see their kids, rushed backstage, with Sidney in tow. He felt a sudden bout of nerves, trying to figure out what he would say to Miss Heywood. His palms were even a little sweaty. He knew his usual cold indifference wouldn't work, that he had to at least be polite and cordial. He wanted to impress her, wanted her to like him. With a string of one night stands, flings and a broken heart under his belt, he wondered how on earth he was going to approach her.

Tom and Mary were making a terrible fuss over their three performers, who seemed to rather enjoy the attention. Mary was smothering each of them in kisses, whilst Tom rambled on about his favourite parts. Unable to scoop all her children into a hug with a baby at her hip, Mary passed James over to Sidney, who hadn't really a say in the matter. He adored his youngest nephew, truly doted on him, however he had planned to seek out Miss Heywood - he couldn't possible flirt with a squirming baby in his arms.

Before he could protest, James was thrust his way. Calming him the only way he knew how, by swaying him back and forth, occasionally making faces at him, Sidney didn't hear a woman approach until she was stood right in front of him. He looked up and, lo-and-behold, Miss Heywood was beaming at him, or rather at the baby.

"Oh, he's lovely," she cooed, tucking a strand of her cocoa-coloured hair behind her ear. The lights bounced off the highlight on her cheeks, making her look all the more ethereal. "Is he yours?"

Sidney was speechless. She was even prettier up close, her smile dazzling. It caught him completely off-guard. It was only when Mary stepped in that he even blinked, remembered how to breathe.

"Forgive my brother-in-law, I think he's a little tired," she said, as she wrapped her arms around the teacher. "You were fantastic, Miss Heywood! Very quick-thinking, getting up there!"

"It was nothing," she replied, modestly. She had even blushed a little, clearly not one to accept compliments easily. "And please Mary, call me Charlotte."

Mary laughed. "Force of habit!" Then somebody called her name across the room, and she left, dragging Tom and the kids with her.

That left Sidney, still clutching James, and Charlotte, stood awkwardly across from each other. She could have easily made her excuses and gone to talk to somebody else, which he wouldn't have blamed her for - he had been gaping at her, wide-eyed, like a fish. However, she stayed, still smiling.

"What's his name?" she asked, reaching out to brush the baby's little hand. He immediately latched onto her finger, gripping tightly, giggling.

"This is James," Sidney finally said, watching as his nephew took a liking to Charlotte. It was extraordinary, as James was usually so fussy around strangers. "He likes you."

She waved it off, as James finally let go. "I'm just used to being around kids is all," she replied. She then looked up at him, their eyes meeting. Cheesy and corny as it sounded, he could have sworn there was a crackle of electricity between them, sparks if you will. "Have you got any other kids in the play?"

Charlotte tucked another piece of hair behind her ear; was this a nervous tick? If it was, did that mean she was nervous around him? Oh God, he was behaving like a schoolboy again, his mouth going dry at the thought of talking to a pretty girl. Was it just the school environment that brought this out in him, or was it ‘Miss Heywood’?

He shook his head, quickly. "Oh, no," he told her, hastily. "James isn't even mine - I mean, he's my nephew. I'm here to support the Parkers; Alicia, Jenny and Henry."

At this, she smiled even wider. “I see,” she replied. “You must be Uncle Sidney, then. I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

“I only lost Jenny, I found her after a few minutes, and it was only the one time,” he was quick to inform her. His mind racing with all the possible atrocities she could have been told. 

She laughed, a very melodic and pretty sound that gave him goosebumps. “I can assure you Jenny has kept that rather hush-hush,” she promised. “What she hasn’t stopped talking about, however, is your fantastic performance of Let It Go. What’s it going to take to hear a live rendition?"

He felt himself flush, as he chuckled, nervously. “Oh, a lot of alcohol I’m afraid. That show was a one-off, strictly for my nieces.”

“Well, I can buy you a drink tomorrow night and we can see how far you get into the song,” she told him, brazenly. “Unless you’re busy of course.”

Her boldness stunned him, though turned him on immensely. “No, I . . . er, I am . . . um, I'm definitely free, yes definitely,” he spluttered, knowing his blush was only deepening.

She grinned. “Great. I’ll see you at the pub at seven then.” She leant forward and brushed a finger gently across James’s chubby cheek. “And I hope to see you soon,” she cooed. Turning to leave, she rested a hand against his arm. “It was really nice to meet you, finally.”

Then, she walked away, leaving behind a very smug little baby and a gobsmacked Sidney, who could hardly believe quite how the evening had turned out.


	3. let it snow, let it snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> as snow falls, romance begins to blossom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you i'd make up for lost time! please enjoy!

Charlotte was a champion breakfast cook - at least, if the Parker children were to be believed.

They’d all woken up early, ridiculously early in fact. She’d been up half the night with baby James, so by the time Henry came racing into her room at six in the morning, she’d had two hours of sleep. Alicia and Jenny weren’t far behind, and soon James was wide awake, bouncing up and down in his crib. At seven o’clock she’d bustled them all downstairs, after wriggling them into their dressing gowns. Trafalgar House was breath-taking, a grand Regency era estate, but, as was the case with old houses, the heating was rather temperamental.

The children all sat at the counter in the kitchen, their heads in their hands as they watched Charlotte cooking with awe. She flipped pancakes to raucous cheer and laughter, fried bacon until it was sizzling, and scrambled eggs until it was just golden. When the food was placed in front of them, the children tucked in heartily, polishing off their meals quicker than she could make another batch of pancakes.

“More please Lottie!” they exclaimed, brandishing their empty plates under her nose, when she heard the doorbell ring. She wiped her hands on her apron and dashed to the door, instructing seven year old Alicia to keep an eye on the pancakes in the pan, but not to touch anything. Swinging the door open, she gasped a little, wishing that she had at least brushed her hair that morning.

On the other side stood Sidney, stylishly wrapped up in an expensive assortment of scarves, gloves, and a beige Brunello Cucinelli cashmere overcoat. He seemed just as surprised as she was, his eyebrow raised. “Charlotte?” he asked, bemused. He glanced down at her pyjamas, his lips twitching. With another pang of regret, she realised she was wearing her festive set of baby blue pyjamas that were at least five years old, with penguins adorned all over them. They were silly and they were childish, but she loved them dearly. “Spent the night, I see?”

“Oh, uh, yes,” she spluttered, hoping that she wasn’t blushing too noticeably. She held the door open further, allowing him in. The cold winter air followed him in, making her shiver. “Didn’t Tom tell you? He’s taken Mary away for the weekend to Devon.”

Sidney nodded, remembering. “Ah yes, _‘the quiet before the storm’_,” he replied, chuckling slightly. “And they enlisted you to be chief child-wrangler?”

“I don’t mind, really,” she assured him. She took his coat for him, hanging it up, her fingertips brushing the back of his neck. The brief contact sent another shiver down her spine. “I thought you were going to be in London this weekend. A crucial meeting or a conference call or something, I heard.”

“It was cancelled.”

“Aren’t you the managing director? The big boss? The head honcho?”

He laughed, again. “I cancelled it. Wanted to come and spend some time with the little rascals.”

The pair of them walked into the kitchen, where the Parker children had their eyes glued to the pancake cooking away in the pan. Sidney regarded the scene before him with light amusement, grinning. It took Charlotte to cough slightly before they turned to notice them, their eyes immediately lighting up.

“Uncle Sidney!”

Jumping out of their seats, they rushed him, chattering away, whilst Charlotte returned to the pan on the stove. “Fancy a pancake, Sidney?”

He took a seat, Henry on his lap. “That sounds great, thank you,” he answered, seeming genuinely pleased at her offer.

“Lottie makes the best pancakes!” Jenny enthusiastically told her uncle.

“Well, I’ll be the judge of that.” One mouthful of syrup-soaked pancakes later, Sidney’s jaw dropped. “Wow. Just wow.” He took another bite. “Is that cinnamon I can taste?”

Charlotte tapped her nose, smirking. “Classified family recipe,” she said, loading up the children’s plate with one more each. “Nana Pru might just haunt you if I revealed the secret ingredient.”

Suddenly, she heard Alicia gasp, and feared the worst. However, as she swivelled around, she was relieved to see that the eldest Parker child hadn’t burnt her tongue, or dropped her food, instead she was pressed against the window, wide-eyed. “Look!”

They all raced to the window and watched, with delight, as snow began to fall outside, fast and heavy, a thin layer already setting over the garden.

“Can we go outside! Can we go outside!”

“Yes you can, but first finish your pancakes before they get cold,” Charlotte instructed. Before she could finish what she was saying, they had wolfed down their food, and held out their empty plates to show her. “You really want to play in the snow, don’t you? Alright, go upstairs and wash your faces and put on something warm. Don’t forget behind the ears!”

They jumped down from their seats and bound up the stairs. Chuckling, Charlotte began to pile up their cutlery and plates, filling up the sink with hot, soapy water.

“You could get those kids to do anything, I think,” she heard Sidney say behind her, making her jump a little - she’d _almost forgotten_ he was there.

“Oh, sorry, I hope you don’t think I’m intruding,” she quickly rambled. “They are your family after all - “

“It’s fine, honestly,” he assured her. He was smiling, making him appear ten years younger. “You’re really good with them. A lot better than most parents are with their own children.”

She shrugged, never one for taking compliments. “I was raised in a busy household.”

“Hmm, Mary told me. Is it true you’re one of fourteen?”

Nodding, she let the dishes soak as she began to unbuckle James from his highchair, hoisting him into her arms. “Yes, and before you make any of those _‘didn’t my parents have a TV?’_ jokes, we actually didn’t when I was growing up.”

Sidney’s brow furrowed in disbelief, as he took one last bite of the pancakes - he genuinely seemed to have enjoyed them, she noted with a dash of pride. “Really?”

“Really,” she replied, dabbing at James’s messy face with a wet wipe. “I was twelve when dad finally caved. The first thing we watched when we had our own TV was the announcement Barack Obama was the President.”

To her surprise, Sidney took his plate over to the sink and began to wash up, without hesitation. “Your childhood sounds like something from an ITV Sunday night period drama,” he smiled, lacking any judgement or mocking.

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I suppose it was. _Midsomer Murders_ without any of the murder, or _The Durrells_ if it was set in Surrey.”

They continued on like this for a while, conjuring up as many ITV dramas as they could, even branching out into BBC dramas when they’d mined all they could from their memories, when the children appeared, minty-breathed and bundled in swathes of mismatched winter clothes. Henry had on not only odd gloves, but odd shoes too - two left ones, in fact. Jenny and Alicia were arguing over who the Frozen bobble hat truly belonged to - _‘but I found it first!’ ‘but it was my present!’_.

Sidney took it upon himself to redress Henry, whilst Charlotte diplomatically dissolved the disagreement, deciding that the pair could take turns wearing the hat or neither of them would wear it. Finally, they patio doors were thrown open and the children ran outside, all tension forgotten the second the stepped foot onto the almost-too-perfect-to-be-real snow.

The grown-ups, and baby James of course, watched from the open door, eagle-eyed. Charlotte had James propped on her hip, as Sidney made them both a coffee. He held onto the mug, steam rising from the irresistible and much-needed beverage, revelling in the warmth. She could feel his gaze on her after a while, so turned to look back at him. He didn’t look away, instead beamed at her, the smile stretching to his eyes.

“Have I got syrup on my face?” she queried, worried that she didn’t have a spare hand to wipe it away.

He shook his head. “No, I was just wondering what how this family came to be so lucky to find you.”

She suspected he was referencing the free childcare, but part of her couldn’t help but hope his comment meant more than that. “I sometimes think it was the other way around. Your family, they mean so much to me.”

“You’re one of the Parkers now, Charlotte. You’re stuck with us.”

“Ah, you’ll regret saying that when we’re in our fifties and I’m still hanging around.”

Sidney laughed, a sound that was quickly becoming one of her favourites. “I rather think I'd like to grow old with you.”

Their eyes remained locked for what felt like an eternity, drinking one another in. All of her wishing and hoping that there was a double side to his words, a deeper meaning, went away, and she was suddenly certain that he felt the same as her.

Just when she thought he was leaning in _(to kiss her?!)_, a deafening thud broke them apart, making her flinch. They turned back to look at the children, and found them rolling around on the ground, doubled over with laughter. One of them, Henry she suspected, had thrown a large snowball in their direction, missing them narrowly and landing on the patio door instead. Crimson flooding their cheeks, they were too bashful to scold the children. Instead, they returned to their coffees, sipping in comfortable silence.

A few minutes later, Sidney was unable to remain idle. He set down his mug and leapt outside to join his nieces and nephew, scooping up armfuls of snow to shape into ammunition. They ran away from him, shrieking and giggling.

The scene before her was one of complete festive bliss, the domesticity of it all causing her to imagine her own future, wherein she stood in her own house, watching her husband chase their children around the garden as the snow fell all around them. Upon closer inspection, she realised that when she pictured her future, while the children were faceless, it was Sidney she saw herself married to.

She smiled into her coffee, her heart full.


	4. the annual parker family secret santa exchange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sidney pulls charlotte's name for secret santa, and struggles to find her the perfect gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello all! thank you for the lovely support, you've been very patient. the comments and the kudos are so nice to see, it really makes my day.
> 
> this chapter was inspired by my own family deciding to do secret santa this year, which i must admit i have very low expectations for. enjoy!

Sidney was more nervous than he had ever been about _'The Annual Parker Family Secret Santa Exchange’_, a ridiculous title chosen by Tom, of course. In the past he’d had easy ones; for example, last year he had gifted Arthur with a ‘Bread of the Month’ club subscription. In fact, he’d argue that any member of his family would have been easy - he had the luck of pulling out the name of the one person _not_ in the Parker clan.

Charlotte Heywood.

She had taken a job in the summer as the children’s nanny when work took Tom and Mary to London most days. However, six months had passed and what had been a temporary position was now somewhat permanent, the future ambiguous. His brother seemed to think she was indispensable, and wouldn’t dare entertain the thought of hiring anyone else. At first this frustrated Sidney - why couldn’t they find a professional? However, after spending time with Charlotte he saw exactly what everyone else had seen; that she was a literal angel. Nothing was too much effort for her; she would be cooking a roast dinner whilst putting the washing on, ironing the whites, then hoover a little, and still have enough time to play with the children. Nobody had a bad word to say about her.

It was over this course of six months that Sidney fell head over heels in love with her. Looking back on their first encounter, it’s easy to see that he had fallen in love with her the second his eyes laid upon her; she had the most incredible smile that had left him breathless. The moment he realised that it was more than a harmless crush was when he’d overheard her telling the children a bedtime story. It was a tale she was making up on the spot, all about a ladybird trying to find it’s way home. Her presence, her enthusiasm, her warmth; he was completely enthralled.

Most recently, when Tom announced that Charlotte was to take part in their sacred Secret Santa, the look of shock and delight on her face - she clearly hadn’t expected to be included - only made him fall even harder for her.

Being around her made him heart-stoppingly nervous, so he had yet to act on his feelings. They had spent precious little time alone, a fact he wished to amend in the new year. Most of their conversations had revolved around the children, or Tom’s progress in reviving Sanditon, but lately they were beginning to be more casual with one another, even sharing the odd in-joke.

So, his problem with having her for Secret Santa wasn’t that she wasn’t a Parker (if anything, she was as integral to the family as any of them now), no it was that he'd had absolutely no clue what to get her. He wanted to buy her something nice, something that showed her that he knew her. The price cap, as always, was £10. That really narrowed down the potential to find something jaw-droppingly outstanding.

Of course, he could always buy her something a tad more expensive in addition to the Secret Santa, but he wasn’t sure if that was too forward. Besides, Charlotte didn’t seem like the type of girl to like lavish gifts, such as jewellery. No, Secret Santa was going to be his one chance to impress her.

This had put a lot of pressure upon his shoulders. He had scoured the high street, combed the internet, browsed catalogues trying to find her something incredible. It had been hopeless. Countless times he had almost given up and resorted to buying her the tried-and-tested, failsafe box of chocolates.

Then one day the perfect present, quite literally, fell in his lap. He’d met Babbington and Crowe in the pub after work one evening, lamenting that his search for Charlotte’s gift was fruitless. Upon hearing his friend’s troubles, Babbington reached into his briefcase and pulled out a business card. It belonged to _Esther’s Emporium_, an antique shop in Sanditon owned by the Denham’s, an established local family that could trace their lineage back centuries. After dodging several questions about how he was associated with Esther Denham, a rather red-faced Babbington insisted that it was at least worth a visit.

Realising he was running worryingly low on options, Sidney decided that it wouldn’t do any harm to pop in when he was in the town at the weekend. A quick peruse soon turned into an hour wandering through the many nooks and crannies, captivated by the charming and curious objects. There were items in the store that would have been superb for everyone else in his family, but nothing for Charlotte. He was beginning to feel defeated again, when his eye caught something behind an art deco vase.

It was an old book, it’s pages crisp and the cover a little battered. Turning it over in his palm, he nearly gasped. Along the spine was, unmistakably, the title; _‘The Fragments of the Work of Heraclitus on Nature’_. Immediately, he recalled a conversation he’d had with Charlotte about her love of philosophy, in particular the writings of Heraclitus. Delicately, he opened it, and found the publishing date - 1901. Just twelve years after the original, which now sat in the Library of Congress, was published. He’d uncovered a rarity indeed, something that belonged to the most worthy person he knew.

He took the book to the counter and held with baited breath as Esther rang it through the till. She’d furrowed her brow and told him that the book wasn’t in her system, meaning it hadn’t got a price. Whilst he’d been browsing they’d chatted briefly and he had mentioned that Babbington had been the one to send him - _‘Mark?’_ she had affectionately asked. His connection to Babbington was what he then accounted her kindness to; she asked him how much he was willing to spend, to which he assured her he couldn’t possibly go above £10. Debating whether she could let it go for such a low price, she pried a little, asking if he was intending to make money off of the book or if it was a gift. He explained his situation; the annual Secret Santa exchange, the price limit, how wonderful Charlotte was, and how important it was that he give it to her. To his surprise, Esther had smiled at him and took the £10 note from his wallet, and wished him luck as he left.

On his way to Trafalgar House on Christmas Eve, the meticulously wrapped present in his hands, which were growing rather sweaty despite the icy cold wind blowing, Sidney’s imagination began to stoke his anxiety. He wondered if she would like it, or if she would think it was just a dusty old book. What if she already owned a copy? What if it had just been a passing comment, and that she liked Heraclitus just as much as she liked the dentists?

Shoving down his nerves, he knocked on the door. As if he’d conjured her, Charlotte was stood on the other side, somehow managing to look incredibly hot in the ugliest Christmas jumper he’d ever seen and a pair of reindeer ears.

“Hi!” she exclaimed, catching him off-guard as she threw an arm around him, ushering him inside. She even took his coat for him, and his scarf. “Come in, come in, it’s freezing out.”

At his feet was the bag in which to deposit the Secret Santa gifts covertly, so that the whole exchange remained anonymous. He slipped the present in, whilst Charlotte’s eyes were averted. “You look . . . um, festive,” he grinned, ignoring how dry his mouth suddenly was. 

She looked down at her jumper, her smile faltering for a split second. “Tom picked it out,” she explained, hinting that it perhaps wouldn’t have been her choice. She then smirked at him, a mischievous glint in her caramel coloured eyes. “Don’t worry, you’ve got one too.”

He chuckled slightly, as they made their way into the living room. He was the last one to arrive, and saw that everyone else was, indeed, wearing hideous jumpers. Mary was carrying a tray of hot chocolates, complete with all the works, whilst Diana and Arthur got themselves as comfortable as they could on the sofa, the three children clambering all over them. Tom appeared in a mustard yellow monstrosity, baby James in his arms, and Sidney snorted - now _that_ was the ugliest Christmas jumper he’d ever seen. Who even made Christmas jumpers in yellow?

“Ah, Sidney! Here, you’re not missing out.” He threw him a jumper, the colour a violent shade of purple. “Put it on!” Sidney turned towards the door, so he could change in the downstairs toilet, when Tom called him back. “Just change here, old sport! We’re all family. Nothing we haven’t seen before!”

He wouldn’t have minded the suggestion, if Charlotte hadn’t been stood a few inches away from him. Trying not to make eye contact with her, he peeled off his more casual and significantly more stylish Off-White sweater, and slipped on the jumper. He could feel her gaze on him, which both admittedly turned him on and made him rather self-conscious, the itchy fabric only adding to his discomfort.

“Fantastic!” Tom cried. “Now, have we all got a drink?” Those without a mug hastily had one thrust into their hands. “Who would like to kick things off?” A beat. "Shall I, as I’m the oldest? Great.”

As Charlotte and Sidney shared a look - they were sharing looks now too! - Tom handed her James, without waiting for a response. She was struggling to balance propping him on her hip and holding her hot chocolate, so Sidney reached over and gently took the drink from her hands. “I promise not to have a sip.”

She grinned. “I’ve counted the marshmallows too,” she retorted. Her quick-wittedness was also something, he realised when his heart skipped a beat, that he loved about her.

Tom brought the bag in and placed it on the coffee table, instructing everyone take a seat. Sidney resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his brother’s formality. The children were huddled in the corner their eyes glued to their dad’s iPad, watching some cartoon about a fireman. Beside him sat Charlotte, James now propped on her lap. Their elbows were touching and he tried to pay attention to Tom, though found it difficult when she was nudged along by Mary, who took a seat on the end, meaning they were all now sandwiched in rather snug.

Unwrapping his gift, Tom seemed bewildered at first as to what it was. Peering over his shoulder, Diana started to giggle. “It’s an avocado cutter,” she informed everyone, causing a ripple of laughter. A few months back, Tom was rushed to Accident & Emergency when he sliced down the palm of his hand whilst attempting to cut into an avocado. Whilst the wound was indeed deep and horrific, the kitchen resembling a crime scene due to the amount of blood he had lost, it had been the source of much amusement for everyone else, especially the nurses who had ‘never come across an accident more ridiculous’.

Tom turned to Charlotte, trying to disguise his pink cheeks, and said; “Now at this point, my dear, we are allowed three guesses to find out who the gift is from.” As if to demonstrate his very easy and simple concept, he added; “Sidney, is this from you? Seems like the devilish sort of thing you’d pull.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and had to stop himself from looking across at who he truly had. “Not me.”

Knitting his brow, Tom tried again. “Arthur, was it you?”

Breaking out into a wide smile, their younger brother nodded, enthusiastically. “You have to see the humour in it now, Tom, surely,” he said.

“Haha, yes, it’s very clever,” Tom laughed in response, though clearly not finding it as funny as the rest of his family. 

As was the tradition, Mary was next as she was the second oldest. Her gift was a set of ruby red measuring cups, in the shape of a Russian doll. She loved it, delighting herself and the children by opening it up in it’s entirety, lining up all six little dolls. “This is wonderful! I can’t wait to start using them!” Looking up from her new baking utensils, Mary scanned the family members in front of her. “Charlotte, was it you?”

To everyone’s surprise, Charlotte shook her head. “Not me, I’m afraid.” This had thrown a spanner in the works as it seemed like the thoughtful kind of gift she would have given.

“Hmm,” Mary hummed. “Diana, was it you?”

“Not me either, Mary!”

“Sidney?”

“Nope.”

Now Mary seemed sheepish. She’d used up all her guesses, leaving only Tom. Before she could thank him, he leapt forward. “It was me, darling!” he exclaimed, sounding like a schoolboy trying to attract the attention of the teacher. “Did you really not suspect?”

Not wanting to start a disagreement when there wasn’t one to be had, Mary reached out and laid a hand on her husband’s knee. “Sorry dear."

After Mary was Diana, who was two years older than Sidney. She carefully unwrapped her present, peeling back the corners, until an ornate owl succulent pot was revealed. She liked it so much that she actually squealed. “Charlotte, this has to be from you!”

Once again, Charlotte shook her head. “I fear you’ve set your expectations for me too high!” she laughed.

“Mary then, it must be you.”

Relieved the attention was away from her poor judgement, and happy Diana had got it right, Mary beamed. “I’m glad you like it.”

Next it was Sidney’s turn. He pulled out his gift from the bag, and smiled at the almost childlike attempt at wrapping - he knew straight away that it was from Arthur. Tearing the paper, he could hardly believe his eyes; inside was a ticket to watch Anthony Joshua vs Andy Ruiz Jr at Wembley Stadium. “No way,” he muttered, in utter shock.

“What is it?” Mary inquired.

Sidney held up the ticket and explained, stammering, what it was. Everyone was completely gobsmacked, everyone besides Charlotte. “You didn’t?” he asked.

She smiled, modestly, and nodded. “I promise I got it for £10,” she assured him. “My brother got them from work but hates boxing, so he sold them to me.”

Inhibitions out the window, he reached over and gave her a hug. He couldn’t believe her, couldn’t believe how well she knew him. He adored boxing and had always wanted to go and see a match, but had never really carved out the time or made the effort to actually book tickets. “It’s . . . you’re amazing,” he told her, as he pulled back. “Truly, Charlotte, this is . . . it’s incredible.”

Her cheeks were a little pink now, though she didn’t break his eye contact. Her gaze made him forget everyone else in the room, until Tom opened his mouth.

“Arthur, it’s your turn,” he announced.

Opening up his gift, which everyone now realised paled in comparison to the incredible boxing tickets, he still remained in good spirits. “A toasting fork!” he chuckled. “Perfect! Diana, I know it was you.”

“I thought I’d hit the nail on the head until you opened yours Sidney,” Diana said, jokingly.

Charlotte’s blush deepened a little more, something he found rather endearing, as she was the last one to open her gift. Sidney’s nerves came back in a swift rush, and were now even stronger thanks to the sensational present from Charlotte; he had an insurmountable bar to reach. He could hardly watch as she tore open the wrapping paper, gripping onto his mug of hot chocolate so tightly until his knuckles were white. He heard her gasp, and immediately turned to see her reaction.

She was holding the book as though it were a newborn baby. James, still in her lap, was trying to grab at the book, his chubby little hands too far away. “I . . . I have no words,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“Open it up,” Sidney muttered into her ear, catching a whiff of her lavender scented perfume - yet another thing he loved about her.

Charlotte did as she was told, and gasped again.

“You two are so secretive,” Arthur teased. “What is it?”

“It’s . . . it’s a copy of Heraclitus’s philosophies,” Charlotte answered him, sounding astonished. “Published in . . . in 1901.” She glanced up at him, her lips parted and her eyes wide. “How?”

He laughed softly. How did he know? How did he find it? How did he afford it? She was, for once, at a complete loss for words, so he had to fill in the blanks. “I found it in an antiques shop,” he explained. “Saw it and I thought of you.”

The way she was looking at him made his heart soar. It was the way Mary would look at Tom when he offered, on occasion, do to the washing up. It was the way his father would look at his mother when she would sneakily fill in an answer on his crossword that he’d been struggling with. It was the way he was certain he looked at Charlotte. It was the the look of somebody happily in love.

If his family hadn’t been surrounding them, he was certain he would have kissed her. More importantly, he was certain she would have kissed back.

“Wow,” Mary said as she got up from her seat, scooping up James. “You two are the unbeatable champions of Secret Santa. Hands down.”

“Well, it’s not a competition, my dear,” Tom was quick to point out, following her into the kitchen.

Soon, they were all milling about the room, engrossed in separate conversations. Sidney and Charlotte, however, hadn’t moved from their spot on the sofa. She was still clutching the book, and he was still holding the ticket.

Suddenly, something dawned on Sidney. “You said ‘them’ earlier,” he told her.

“Hmm?”

“When you were explaining how you got the ticket, you said 'I bought them’,” he continued.

She grinned. “Oh, Will was selling a pair, and I gave him £20 for them both. I gave you the one because of Tom’s £10 limit.”

“Where’s the other one?”

Her grin broadened. “I’ve got it. You can have it back if you want - “

“No, keep it,” he was quick to interrupt. “Keep it, and come with me.”

The grin had now extended to her eyes, making them dazzle. “On a date?”

“Yes, on a date.”

Sidney was certain that he was grinning like a madman too, as he took her hand in his. It was small and it was soft, and it fitted perfectly in his.


	5. office christmas party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> charlotte agrees to be sidney's date for his work christmas do - as friends. however, sidney can't shake his nerves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a very short one i'm afraid! i'm going to be posting a couple more later tonight though, so stay tuned!
> 
> enjoy!

Sidney was pacing back and forth in his living room, no doubt wearing down the granite-coloured rug. He was dressed in a smart white shirt, with navy blue trousers and a matching blazer. His hair was, honestly, in need of a trim, the chestnut curls a tad longer than he’d have liked, though he had made sure to wear just the appropriate amount of cologne; his favourite, Hugo Boss. He was ready for his firm’s Christmas party, Charlotte wasn’t.

He’d invited his brother’s old babysitter last minute, when he’d caught wind from Babbington and Crowe that the women in their office were treating the annual social gathering as fair hunting grounds, and he was the intended prey. Admittedly, he could have brought along anyone he wanted. His Tinder account, though left unopened for a fair month, was rather popular; he received at least a dozen messages a week. However, his plus one would have been wasted on anyone besides Charlotte.

She was now an up-and-coming architect, employed by one of the most reputable companies in the city. They both lived along the Southbank, though in significantly different buildings. Sidney’s was a whole floor, with views of the Thames, and an elevator that opened directly into his apartment; Charlotte’s entire property was the size of his bedroom, with views of the nearest Tube station, and an elevator that hadn’t worked since Gordon Brown was in office.

They socialised in very different circles, however always made time for one another to grab brunch. In fact, she had relied on him during her first couple of weeks in London whilst she was getting acclimatised. This meant they had formed quite a nice bond, and he considered her to be one of his most trusted and most cherished friends.

She had snapped up his invitation in a heartbeat. Out of curiosity, she had told him. Wanted to see how the other half 'get loose’. Whilst he assured her that there were no bowls of cocaine and half-naked shot-girls, he was worried that the dizzying heights of the haut monde will only alienate and offend her - for he wasn’t even certain that he fitted in either.

At five o’clock she had called him to let him know her Tube had been delayed and she wouldn’t be able to make it to his for pre-drinks. At six o’clock, Sidney feared that nerves - and his weird formality and awkwardness when asking her to be his date - had become too much for her to cope with. Desperately, he tried to remain composed, which meant knocking back a few more glasses of wine whilst he waiting for news. Eventually, he caved, and sent her as casual a text as he could muster, inquiring her where she was.

She had replied in seconds - he adored her punctuality - saying; **_Don’t worry, I’m just running a little late is all. Go ahead without me! x_**

That wasn’t what he had wanted to hear, but took confidence from her calm response. He wanted to wait for her, but wondered how much longer she would take. He was expected to be early at the bar, considering he was on the board of directors. Sighing, he knew what he had to do, and responded with; OK, see you soon!

The entire taxi journey to the bar his stomach was in knots. Just because it was a company focused on the import and export of fair-trade products, that didn’t mean everyone was a decent person. He knew the sorts of antics many of the other executives got up to on the weekend, and didn’t want Charlotte to associate him with them. He was also strangely uneasy about the prospect of her accompanying him all night, the whole situation (her being his date, even if it was just to fend off unwanted suitors) making him astonishingly anxious. He tried to remind himself she was his friend, and ultimately doing him a favour, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wanted the evening to be more.

When he stepped inside the bar, he tried his best to to ignore the desire to pick up the nearest champagne flute and down the contents in one, and so looked around for a familiar face. In an an attempt to avoid the stares from some of the more tactless women from his office, he unfortunately, he clapped eyes with a particularly boorish and lewd group from accounting; Hugo Longhurst, Gregory Gordon, and Cyril Fitzgerald. Sidney didn’t want any more attention drawn to him, and they were doing the exact opposite.

“Parker! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Greg cried, going in for high-five, which Sidney reluctantly reciprocated.

“We’ve missed you at the weekly poker games!” Cyril added. “Did the stripper scare you off?"

Hugo, the most obnoxious of them all, clapped Sidney on the back, knocking the wind out of him. “As if Parker here has to pay girls to get naked," he joked, as though they were sharing a vulgar in-joke.

“Speaking of, what bird are you planning on taking back to yours tonight?" Greg asked, gesturing to the huddle of girls with painfully obvious spray tans and bleached blonde hair. One of the girls caught him looking, and waved over at Sidney, plastering a sickly sweet smile on her plastic-looking face. “I think that one likes you."

Gritting his teeth, Sidney wished for an escape from the conversation. “I'm not like that anymore,” he began, wanting to retreat into a corner by himself. “I’ve brought a date."

“_A date?_” they exclaimed in unison, incredulously.

“That doesn’t sound like the Parker we know,” Cyril chuckled, puffing out his chest as he laughed, much like a bird trying to attract a mate.

Just as they began to question him, their jaws, quite literally, dropped. A noticeable quiet settled around the room, as people’s eyes flitted to the doorway. His brow knitted, he turned around and felt his heart stop. Charlotte was walking in, clad in the most stunning gold, glittery dress that stopped mid-thigh, her legs on display. The neckline was low, scandalously so, and left little to the imagination. Her cinnamon coloured hair free and flowing, her dark eyes were dazzling. Her make-up was extraordinary, the light bouncing off her dewy skin, her lipstick a deep shade of burgundy. In short, she was breathtaking.

Behind him, Sidney could hear the executives making inappropriate comments about Charlotte. He felt immensely protective of her, and before he could swivel around and knock them to their feet, she spotted him. Her face lit up as she began to approach him, all of his worries melting away. Suddenly, the only thing that mattered was her.

“Wow,” was all Sidney could utter, getting all tongue-tied. “You look . . . _wow_."

She chuckled at his choice of words, as she glanced over his shoulder. “Are they the friends you warned me about?” she whispered, and Sidney merely nodded. Acting quickly, she took his hand in hers, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek - in full view of the other men. His skin burned where her lips had touched him, and he was certain that he was blushing. He knew it was for show, and that she was doing it to help him ward off unwanted attention, but he was still shocked to feel a shiver go down his spine.

“This is Charlotte,” he introduced, as she flashed the three men a wide grin. One of her hands rested on his shoulder, the other placed on his chest, as his arm snaked around her waist. He wasn’t sure how they ended up in that position, but it felt right. “Charlotte, this is Hugo, Greg and Cyril."

Selfishly, Sidney relished in their astonishment. Her sparkly gold dress and her bubbly personality meant she quite literally shone. There wasn’t a single person in the bar who hadn’t noticed Charlotte, and who wasn’t talking about her.


	6. naughty or nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> charlotte and sidney have a one night stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told you i'd be back soon! and this one is a little bit longer.
> 
> please enjoy! i'm loving all the fab comments and kudos, it's much appreciated!

Charlotte awoke completely unaware of her surroundings. Eyes barely open, she rolled over in the bed - far comfier than she ever remembered it being? - and went to check the time on her phone. When she couldn't find it simply by feel, she huffed and propped herself up on her elbows to get a better look. What she saw was a bedside table that in no shape or form resembled her own, basic Ikea one. Her brow knitted, she glanced around the room.

It was an incredibly sophisticated space four times the size of her entire apartment, tastefully furnished with matte black and metallic furniture. On the wooden floor she spotted a trail of clothes leading out the door, among them her own ruby red dress. Flushing, she noticed her matching underwear set, strewn across a futon. Her hand flew to the top of the duvet, where she cautiously peeled it back; of course, she was naked.

That had to mean one thing.

Slowly, she glanced sideways, her mind flood with possibilities as to who the man beside her was; she had to stop herself from gasping. The man, whose name escaped her, with chestnut brown hair, ever-so-slightly curls, and a burgeoning beard, he was ridiculously good-looking. Like, model-in-a-Hugo-Boss-advert good-looking. He was sound asleep, the sheets pooled around his waist, treating her to a delicious display of his bare muscles. The longer she looked, the more the memories began flooding back to her.

Charlotte couldn’t contain the grin that spread across her features. Their night together had been _incredible_. Five orgasms! It was too good to be true.

It was tempting to stay curled up in his bed, wait for him to wake up so they could make that number an even six, however she had train tickets booked for the 8:42 train out of Waterloo back home to Willingden for the Christmas holidays. Her family were expecting her, and surely would not appreciate being passed over for a one night stand.

As quietly as she could muster, she swung her legs out of the duvet and tip-toed around the room, collecting her discarded clothes. She slipped on her underwear, the kind that never failed to give her a little confidence boost. Cursing under her breath she saw that her £15 dress from _Pretty Little Thing_ had been torn slightly in the throes of passion last night - she couldn’t wear that on the tube back to her apartment. It was already obvious enough that she’d be doing the walk of shame, a ripped dress would only be a red flashing light alerting more people to stare at her.

“Sorry again about that,” the man from the bed muttered, his voice husky. Now that his eyes were fluttering open, Charlotte swore that she could have gotten lost in his rum coloured eyes if she stared too long. He was grinning sheepishly at her, though despite his initial awkwardness he was still gazing at her body, drinking her in. “I’m sure I have some clothes you can borrow. Sweatpants or something.”

Hoping her blush wasn’t too prominent, she smiled back at him, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That would be great, thank you,” she replied, gratefully.

As the man left the confines of his sheets, Charlotte averted her eyes. Not entirely sure why - for it was nothing she hadn’t already seen - she instead pretended to be absorbed in her tattered dress. Fortunately, the man quickly pulled on a pair of checkered pyjama bottoms, choosing to forgo a shirt (for her viewing pleasure, perhaps?). He began to rifle through the drawers in his walk-in wardrobe, whilst she stood at the foot of the bed.

“You don’t have to leave so soon,” he called out to her. Then, sensing what could be implied from his words, he hastily stuck his head out and flashed her an uneasy grin. “I didn’t mean it like . . . I can make you breakfast, if you’d like?”

That was not what she expected. She’d thought that after their unbelievably fantastic night together she’d slip away in the morning and they’d never see each other again. That was just the way it was with these big city business types, like this man so clearly was. The fact he was lending her some more appropriate clothing and offering to make her breakfast astounded her. It also set off a swarm of butterflies inside her stomach; not the nervous kind, more the sort you get when it’s Christmas Eve and you can’t contain your excitement.

It was then with a heavy heart that she had to decline his offer. “That sounds so lovely, but I have a train to catch in an hour.”

“No worries,” he told her, returning from his wardrobe with a pair of grey sweatpants and a white shirt that read; _‘I went to Sanditon and all I got was this t-shirt!’_. It made her chuckle. "Going somewhere nice?”

“Back home for the holidays,” she explained, changing in front of him. “Heard of Willingden?” He shook his head. “Nobody really has. It’s in the Surrey Hills.”

“Who’s at home for you? The whole family?” He genuinely seemed interested, not simply trying to hurry things along.

Wriggling into his sweatpants, they were both amused to find that they were far too long for her, dangling off her feet. Paired with the oversized (on her) t-shirt, she resembled a child playing dress up. “Oh you know, the usual,” she began, rolling the sweatpants up past her ankles. “Mum, dad, gran, thirteen siblings.”

His eyes bulged out of his head, the standard response when people heard the amount of brothers and sisters she had. “That’s a lot of birthdays to remember,” he joked, making her laugh out loud; that was one she hadn’t heard before.

“And a lot of Christmas presents to buy too,” she muttered. “I don’t know how I’m going to manage carrying them all on the train.”

He laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “You sure I can’t tempt you to some breakfast before you go? I make some mean scrambled eggs.”

Now properly clothed, though she wondered what sorry state her smudged make-up and unbrushed hair was in, she tried to resist giving in. He was so irresistible, a double whammy with good looks and charm to boot, that she was _so close_ to booking a later train. However, she’d made a promise.

“I wish I could say yes,” she assured him, gently.

His smile, so dazzling, faltered slightly, and it mustered in her the same sort of guilt one feels when stepping on a puppy’s tail. “Another time maybe.”

Was that an offer for a date? “I’ll hold you to that.”

Their eyes were locked for what felt like hours, neither of them wanting to look away first. However, they both turned when they heard the _*ping*_ of a phone. It was her phone, the battered case and cracked screen making it easily identifiable. Pressing the home button, she saw that the time was half seven, leaving her with just enough time to fetch her bags and rush to the train station. She also saw seven missed calls from Gigi, and several text messages from a smattering of her siblings, letting her know they were excited to see her. Allison in particular was rather enthusiastic, sending her a flurry of emojis, many of which Charlotte didn’t know the meaning of. Turning it off, telling herself she’d answer them later, she glanced back up at the man.

“Just my family,” she informed him. “Excited to see me later.”

He beamed at her, then clicked his fingers as though remembering something. He disappeared into his walk-in wardrobe again, and returned moments later with a bright red hoodie. “It’ll be cold out there,” he said, as he held it out to her.

Her heart burst. “You’re perfect.” They both blushed a little at the compliment.

He walked her to the lift door, which opened up inside his apartment - now if that didn’t scream upscale than nothing did. As they waited for the lift to be brought up, stood rather cosily next to one another, Charlotte could swear that he’d be able to hear the pounding of her heartbeat. Looking up at him, she found that he was looking back at her with an ineluctable intensity, a sort of ferociousness. It was the spark needed to set her off, igniting the fire inside. She stood on her tip-toes to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck, bringing him down to her level. He matched her eagerness, kissing her back almost hungrily. Her nails raked through his hair, his hands on her back, pressing her into him.

They broke apart only when the doors to the lift opened, and the operator (another indicator to the sort of wealthy this man was) coughed. Reluctantly, he let her go, watching her step into the lift. His hair was sticking out at every angle, his lips swollen, red welts in his back. She also noticed, for the first time, patches of purple skin along his neck - marks she had clearly left the night before. She gave him a little wave, too full of remorse at having to go to feel embarrassed at being caught by the operator.

When the lift doors closed, she let out a deep sigh. “Where to miss?”

“Oh, uh, ground floor please.”

“I hope you’re not planning on leaving, miss.”

Furrowing her brow, she turned to give the operator a perplexed look. Was that a threat? It certainly sounded very ominous. “Why’s that?”

“It’s been snowing all through the night, miss. The roads are deemed too perilous to drive on.”

She breathed a sigh of relief - he wasn’t planning on chopping her up into little pieces then. “That’s ok, I’m catching a tube.”

The operator shook his head, gravely. “A lot of them aren’t running today, miss. Workers can’t get in. ThamesLink is cancelled too.”

They reached the ground floor, Charlotte now rather concerned how she was going to get back to her flat. However, when the doors opened, she found herself wondering how she was ever going to leave the apartment complex she was currently in. The snow was far thicker than she’d ever seen in London, at least eight inches deep. It was piled right up against the door, sandbags placed in front of the glass to stop the water leaking in.

“Oh, and there’s no getting out those doors either, miss.”

“That would have been nice to know _first_,” she sighed, not sure what to do. The lobby was far too cold to sit around in all day, waiting for somebody to dig a clear path out the door. Even then she wasn’t even sure what part of London she was in; how long would it take her to walk back to her apartment? _And_ even then she’ll have missed her train to Willingden, a train that was probably already cancelled. She was weighing up her rather limited options when the operator spoke again.

“Would you like me to take you back up to Mr Parker, miss?”

Mr Parker? She smiled - it suited him. “Yes, please.”

Mr Parker was rather surprised to see her again, stood in his apartment, not even two minutes after saying goodbye. For a split second she feared that all his persistence at her having breakfast with him had merely been a kind gesture that he had hoped she’d decline; kindness for appearance’s sake.

Then, he grinned at her, a wide grin that made all her worries disappear.

“Couldn’t keep away?” he teased.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I’m here for the eggs.”

At that, all previous awkwardness had gone. He showed her into his kitchen, where she took a seat at the marble countertop, watching him cook away. He seemed to be a natural, knowing just how much salt to add, just when to stop whisking, exactly how hot the pan needed to be. It was rather an effective turn-on.

“You know, a man who can cook is incredibly sexy,” she told him, as he poured her a glass of orange juice.

He looked across at her, his gaze magnetic. He licked his lips, which only added to the sensuality of it all. “It’s just eggs,” he told her, his voice almost a growl. “Wait until you taste my spaghetti bolognese.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It’s me asking you on a date,” he replied, handing her the plate, loaded with scrambled eggs and toast. Their fingertips brushed, sending a bolt of electricity up her arm.

She held out a finger to him, causing a puzzled expression to cross his features. She stuck her fork into the eggs and took a generous mouthful; they were delicious. The perfect amount of seasoning, they were fluffy and light and superb. “If your bolognese is half as good as these eggs then I can’t wait.”

He beamed, taking the seat next to her.

As they sat and ate their bacon and eggs, Charlotte couldn't help but remark that he was a man of contrasts. At first glance he reminded her of a medieval knight, reminiscent of a character in _Game of Thrones_, with his rugged good looks. However, they second he smiled, his eyes practically twinkling, he seemed so soft. His whole demeanour would change. Also, if you were to take into account his apartment, the actual lift operator in his building, and his bloody walk-in wardrobe, you would be excused for assuming he could be somewhat of an arrogant arse - he certainly had the bank balance to justify it. Yet, he had been nothing but humble, gently talking to her, even _blushing_.

Finally, Charlotte wouldn't have expected a man of his calibre to be even remotely interested in her. She was a twenty-two year old farm girl, fresh from university, with an internship that paid far too little for the amount of work she was doing, completely out of her depth in a bustling city like London. All of that considered, there he was, having spent an unbelievable night with her, making her breakfast and discussing plans for a proper date.

If she didn’t know any better, she would think that she was falling in love with him. Already. A man she didn’t even know the name of.

“I’m so sorry, what’s your name again?” she asked, embarrassed at having to ask.

He laughed, suddenly seeming as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “I’m Sidney,” he told her. “I’m so glad you asked because I can’t remember for the life of me your name either.”

“I’m Charlotte,” she smiled.


	7. office christmas party: part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a continuation of sidney's office christmas party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you asked, i delivered (i hope!!) - a part 2!
> 
> my three updates today come rather bittersweet; i'm afraid that i won't be able to update until at least the 28th, as i am spending christmas with family away from home so i won't have access to my laptop. i'm so sorry! i'd wanted to complete all twelve chapters before christmas day, but work and babysitting have just got in the way.
> 
> please enjoy!

Charlotte was having more fun than Sidney had led her to believe she’d have at his office Christmas party. Sure, the booze was expensive and the music was corny - an awful amalgamation of early 00’s pop chart-toppers (only the forgettable ones) and the occasional ABBA or Queen song. Nevertheless, she was enjoying herself in his company, especially when he was looking so damn irresistible in a suit. She’d seen him dressed up before, sure, but she hadn’t been _his date._

Yes, she’d said yes as a friend. She’d thought that it would take less pressure off the evening. That hadn’t been the case, however, as she’d discovered whilst shopping for a dress to wear to the party. She’d dragged Gigi to six different shops on the high street trying to find the perfect gown. It had to be formal enough that she wouldn’t feel intimidated by the eye-watering price tags on the other girls’s clothes, but sexy enough that she’d ensure Sidney wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off her all night.

Her crush on him had formed when she was sixteen and he was this jet-setting mogul that appeared every weekend or so, with armfuls of treats for the Parker children. She wasn’t sure he had even noticed her, not truly, until her eighteenth birthday when he had taken her out sailing for the day. The children came along of course, or else tongues would have wagged and gossip about their inappropriate friendship would have spread throughout the town like wildfire, for he was seven years older than she was. Over the years her crush blossomed into this full-on, gut-wrenching infatuation with him. The night of her twenty-third birthday she fell irrevocably in love with him. He’d treated her to dinner at some extravagant restaurant in Mayfair, and then out to a club for dancing. They had been _so close_ to kissing that night.

When he’d invited her to his work Christmas do she’d snapped his hand off saying yes, then having to downplay her excitement by telling him it was merely out of curiosity. He’d gone into detail, explaining that he needed her to help him ward off unwanted attention. This had caused this odd feeling of pride (he’d chosen her!) and envy to build up inside her, only cementing the need to find something jaw-dropping to wear.

Her entrance into the bar certainly dropped some jaws. However, the only reaction she cared about was Sidney’s, and he didn’t disappoint. He had been at a loss for words when he saw her. It emboldened her to emphasise the role she had been given, kissing his cheek, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other on his chest. Sidney didn’t protest, and when his colleagues had left to get another round of drinks, he turned to her, grinning.

“Have I ever told you how incredible you are?” he asked, without a hint of teasing.

She beamed back at him. “No, can you say it again?”

He laughed, taking her hand in his. “Come on, let’s show you off."

As comfortable as she was beside Sidney, she felt as though she were under a spotlight. When the CEO’s jealous wife wasn’t staring down the receptionist, and the other executives weren’t making unoriginal, borderline politically incorrect jokes about the workplace, she was being bombarded with question after question from snooty-nosed socialites. Everyone wanted to know who she was, where she had met Sidney, what she did and so on.

“I’m an architect."

“We met through his family."

“I’ve known him for seven years."

Charlotte hadn’t explicitly said they were or weren’t a couple, which was driving people (especially the women Sidney had warned her about) insane. Rather wickedly, she relished in their frustration.

There was one point when all five the other directors on the board had cornered her, and demanded to know just how she had managed to trap _‘good old Parker'_. Their stares were rather lecherous, openly staring at her chest as they spoke, making her skin crawl. When one of them suggested she _'must have a magical p*ssy’_, she felt like throwing her drink over one of them. She was beyond relieved when Sidney came over and rescued her, tucking her arm in his.

“How’s it going?” he whispered, as they walked away.

“Your co-workers seem to think that I’ve performed nothing short of a miracle, tying you down,” she replied, her blood-boiling as she repeated the vile thing one of them had said. His jaw tightened, a dark cloud of anger appearing in his eyes. Knowing how his temper could get out-of-hand rather easily, she was quick to try and calm him down. “I’m fine, honestly."

Sidney was at a loss for words, his breathing shallow and ragged. “Who said that?” he asked, through teeth gritted.

“It doesn’t matter,” she assured him, stepping closer, placing a hand on his chest. “I love that you want to defend me, but please, you don’t have to do anything."

At her touch, he seemed to settle. He covered her hand with his own, and squeezed, gently.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised, his voice husky. “I didn’t bring you here to make you feel uncomfortable."

“Why did you ask me?” Charlotte inquired, cocking her head to the side. She was emboldened by the few cocktails of wine she’d had that night, and her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She was also still trying to distract him. “I know you know plenty of girls who would have been more than willing to say yes."

“You’re the only girl I wanted to ask,” he told her, without hesitation. His answer took her aback, and she wanted to ask him what he meant by that, when they were approached by some other sour-face, expensive jewellery-wearing guests, keen to meet her.

After another conversation where more people were distastefully surprised to hear that no, Charlotte’s didn’t go to private school or attend any society galas, the pair of them made their excuses and fled the party. Revived by the bracing winter air, she made a joke about one of his colleagues’s racoon-like toupee, and the pair doubled over with laughter. She clutched onto Sidney’s shoulder to steady herself, her heels beginning to pinch, whilst he pulled out a cigarette.

“I thought you were going to give up?” she scolded.

He looked at her for a long time before putting it out, pocketing his lighter. “What is it about you that I can’t say no to?”

“Must be my charm, because I’m hardly the most intimidating person,” she replied, joking.

He chuckled slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. He suddenly seemed nervous, something that intrigued her.

“Are you alright?”

“No, not really,” he shook his head.

“What’s happened?”

“You. You happened, Charlotte.”

She was concerned now. Had she said something to upset him? “Me?”

“You show up tonight, looking like . . . well, _that_, reminding me what a fool I’ve been to take you for granted all these years.” He was rambling, not making any coherent sense.

“Taking me for granted? Sidney, what are you talking about?”

He sighed, a deep sigh that made her realise he was going to say something that had been on his mind all night. “You know that you're easily my best friend. You have the biggest, most kindest heart, always making me feel like I don’t do enough to help others. You’re so incredibly smart, smarter than me for sure, and so fascinating; you think you’re not, but you are. You can always make me laugh, definitely always make me smile. As if that’s not already fatal enough, you’re the most beautiful person I know. You’re so, unbelievably sexy, even when you’re not trying to be.”

As he stopped to catch his breath, she narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you drunk?”

He laughed, anxiously. “I’m in love with you, Charlotte. It’s taken me seven years to work that out. Seven long, painstaking years.”

When those were the words she’d wanted to hear for so long, she didn’t hesitate in throwing her arms around him. They kissed, softly at first, as though afraid the other would break. Then, as they began to melt into one another’s touch, they grew bolder. Their lips moved in synchrony, passionately. Her hands were wither side of his face, pulling him down to her, as his hands became tangled in her hair. It was exactly the sort of kiss she’d dreamed of experiencing. The fact it was their first kiss made her giddy with excitement over what was to come.

They broke apart when they felt something wet land upon their cheeks. Looking up, they were delighted to see that it was snowing. Sidney pulled her into an embrace, holding her close to him, as they watched the snow settle around them.

“I love you too,” she whispered.


	8. a christmas eve walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whilst walking home on christmas eve, something dawns on sidney

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for my abscence! christmas/new years was hectic, i've only just been settled enough to write!
> 
> please, enjoy!

Sidney hadn't ever really believed in fate. A culmination of being orphaned at eleven, then heartbroken and in debt at nineteen had taught him to think that he world wasn't fair, and you had to make your own path. He'd built his entire way of life around this logic, practically cauterising his heart.

Then he met Charlotte. She made him believe in destiny again. Their meeting was, at the expense of sounding corny, written in the stars. At the time, he had lamented being shoehorned into going to his nieces primary school parent's evening (fortunately James and Henry were only in nursery, thus sparing him from further torture). Tom and Mary were away in Devon, claiming to be viewing properties to expand their business, but he knew better; they'd won a mini-break in the church raffle, and were having a well-earned, if poorly-timed, getaway. Part of his uncle duties meant he had to step in at Sanditon Primary School.

After an excruciating half hour long assembly, in which the far too chippy headmaster lead the seventy or so pupils in a song about celebration, he was dragged along by Jenny first to meet her teacher. Miss Brereton was far too full of herself, batting her eyelashes at the modest queue of fathers who'd, conveniently, stepped in to accompany their children. When Sidney sat in front of her, he tried to bury his discomfort as she shamelessly flirted with him. The instant she'd began to write her number out 'just in case he had further questions', he got to his feet and made his excuses to leave.

Itching to get the next meeting over and done with as soon as possible, he joined the queue for Alicia's teacher, Miss Heywood. Yet another line made up of over-eager fathers made him roll his eyes. For such a small town, they was an uncommon amount of young, unmarried, _exceptionally pretty_ -

They second he clapped eyes upon Charlotte, it was as though time had froze. He'd had to be pulled to his seat by a giggling Alicia, all the while speechless.

Their second meeting was nothing short of fated either. He'd been meaning to find a way to ask her out, for he had not been able to stop thinking about her. He'd tried to talk to her at the school gates in the mornings and evenings, but she had been preoccupied with genuine, more pressing matters. By the time Tom and Mary had returned, he'd yet to have a moment alone with her. Due to return to London for work the next morning, he'd stopped at the local pub to have a drink with his brothers, when lo and behold there she was. Sat at the bar with a couple of friends, laughing adorably at some joke. It was as though he'd conjured her merely by thought.

He'd mustered up the courage to ask her on a date, only to remember he was leaving in the morning without a clue when he was coming back. Resigned to consider their _incredibly brief_ courtship over, he was about to drown his woes with another drink when she informed him; 'How lucky! My sister's at university on the South Bank and I'm visiting next weekend! Maybe we could meet up then?'

Of course they met up, and one date turned into ten, and ten into fifty.

All throughout their relationship events occurred that forced Sidney to rethink his whole philosophy on love and life. Surely fate must exist? Was it not fate that Tom and Mary had won that weekend away, pushing him to go to the parent's evening in their stead where he met Charlotte? Was it not fate that caused Allison to win a scholarship to a university in London, something her family would never have been able to afford otherwise, allowing them to have their first date in London?

To top it off, a freak snowstorm had swept the country, grounding thousands of flights in all the airports. Snow would, usually, have been welcomed, however the pair had planned a whirlwind trip to the Maldives for a week over the holidays which they were now forced to cancel. It had been to celebrate a year and a half together.

Instead, they were now spending Christmas in Sanditon, in Charlotte’s cosy little seaside cottage. Despite the allure of sandy beaches and crystal clear waters, Sidney had to admit that he wasn’t all that disappointed to be staying home; he didn’t care where he was, as long as he was with her.

On Christmas Eve Tom had suggested they all go down to the pub for their dinner, and then make an evening out of it, staying for drinks and ‘merriment’ - he had earned much teasing at the use of such an antiquated word. Whilst Sidney waited for Charlotte to get ready, he smiled to himself as he wandered around her house. His belongings had slowly begun to weave their way amongst her things, for example his books were lined up neatly alongside hers in the bookshelf, his coats were hanging on the coat rack, his favourite family photograph framed next to her own family photographs. They hadn’t officially moved in with one another, for he still owned Bedford Place in Mayfair, but he had a key to her cottage, and she had a key to his apartment.

She came down the stairs in an embroidered tea dress, sweeping down to her shins. It was modest enough for a family gathering, but when she moved he could tell that she had forgone underwear, a thought that made his jaw tighten. “Ready?” she asked him, innocently, her doe eyes wide; she knew exactly what she was doing. He put her coat on for her, took her hand, and they made the short walk to the pub, bracing the unyielding snow.

Inside the whole Parker clan had massed, dominating the coveted corner table by the fireplace. They all quickly ordered, famished, the heavenly scent of roast chicken wafting from the kitchen doors.

Throughout their dinner, Sidney found himself entranced completely by Charlotte. She was engaging with the children, who could so often be cast aside when the grown-ups got together. Henry sat on her lap, showing off his dinosaurs, all the while she cut up his food for him. Mary appreciated having somebody around who adored the children almost as much as she did, as it took some off the work off of her shoulders.

Not only was she a whizz with the kids, but his family loved her too. She was an excellent conversationalist; fantastically easy to talk to and never without something interesting to say.

At one point during the pudding course, she made a euphoric noise whilst trying her Eton mess that sent a shiver down his spine. “That . . . good?” he asked her, his words getting stuck in his throat.

Fully aware of her effect on him, she held out her spoon to him, allowing him to taste the whipped cream, meringue, and red berries. He licked it off, slowly, not once breaking eye contact with her. As conversation started up again, they turned back to the others on the table, though her hand did come to rest on his thigh, the little squeeze she gave him serving as a promise of later activities.

After dinner, they did indeed all stay for several rounds of drinks, until the children began to grow weary, Henry even falling asleep in Charlotte’s lap. They all decided to head back to their respective houses, as they knew they next day would be rather hectic. Charlotte finished her vodka cranberry ('it’s festive, right?’) and bid the Parkers goodbye, whilst Sidney watched his girlfriend, surprised at the immense feeling of pride that had engulfed him. In fact, he’d been feeling proud of her all night. The natural way in which she slotted into his family was something he hadn’t realised was so important to him.

They walked back home, arm in arm. She was such a small little thing that the second he felt her shiver he brought her into his body snugly, his arm holding her close. “Tonight’s been perfect,” she said with a contented sigh.

“Beats the Maldives any day,” he smiled.

“Exactly. Who needs fluffy towels and coconut cocktails when you have the Sanditon Arms’s famous roast potatoes?”

He grinned again, even chuckling slightly. “Fluffy towels? That’s what you were looking forward too?”

“Shut up,” she laughed, nudging him. “You know what I mean.”

“Hmm, yes. I was robbed off the sight of you in a bikini, begging me to put suncream on your hard-to-reach areas - " This earned him another, much sharper, dig in the ribs.

They continued walking, taking a much longer route than necessary, enjoying one another’s company. As they crossed the Parker Bridge over the river, a stone structure built by his ancestors in the early 1800’s, Charlotte slipped on a concealed ice patch, and would have taken a nasty tumble if Sidney hadn’t caught her in time. His heart leapt at the near-miss, body tense, whilst she broke out into laughter, her hands on his chest.

“You could have fallen into the river!” he scolded, though was starting to see the humour in it too, now that the danger had passed.

“Yes, but fortunately you were by my side and rescued me before I could topple over,” she replied, beaming up at him. “Thankfully you’ll be here to catch me when I’m in my eighties, before I break a hip!”

It was a joke, he knew, but he couldn’t help but focus on the part where she had foreseen their future, together. He pictured them walking home from the pub in their eighties, on their way back to their humble seaside cottage, where a roaring fire and a toasty bed awaited them. They would of course have children, even grandchildren, by then, a whole brood of them. He’d be Grandpa Sid, she would be Nana Lottie, and they’d let the grandkids stay up as late as they want, and let them have ice cream for breakfast. They’d have a dog too, nearly as old at they were. It would have been taught to fetch his slippers, and he’d be wearing them when his sons come to visit to watch the rugby, dropping off a newspaper for their old man. Charlotte would be in the kitchen baking with her daughters, making more of a mess than anything delicious, and they’d all eat some of her jam concoctions in the sand dunes whilst the grandkids play in the waves.

As he looked down at Charlotte, her cheeks rosy, her eyes sparkling, he saw their whole life flash before him. He realised that he didn’t want to grow old with anybody else, didn’t want to settle down with anybody else, didn’t want to love anybody else. She was his everything, his _fate_.

Seizing the moment, he knelt down, holding her hand. At first she had though he had stumbled too, and laughed as she tried to haul him to his feet. When she saw that it was intentional, she furrowed her brow, bewildered. “Sidney?”

“Marry me, Charlotte?” he asked her, his heart pounding. “Before I met you, I was so certain of everything in my life. I’d closed myself off from love, that love wasn’t for me. I made stupid, selfish decisions, I’d been reckless and cruel, thinking it better to hold the world at arm’s length than to allow myself to feel anything again. I’d convinced myself that nothing was destined, that fate was something made up by studios to sell films. Well, ever since I met you, fate has been on my side, God knows why. I’m madly in love with you, and I want to spend every day telling you. I want to walk home with you, every night. I want to wake up with you, every morning. I want my every Christmas to be with you. Please, marry me, Charlotte?”

Tears were streaming down her cheeks now, as she brought her hands to his face, pulling him up to her. She kissed him, passionately, their cold noses pressed together. When they broke apart he could taste her tears on his lips. “Of course I’ll marry you,” she promised him, softly, before she kissed him again.

They began walking back home when the cold became almost unbearable, their swollen lips stinging. Charlotte not once let go of his arm, not even when the sound of a bell tolling in the town caused them to both jump. It was the church bell, signalling midnight. With a grand smile, she squeezed his arm. “It’s Christmas Day,” she told him.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he said, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. They remained in delicate embrace until something dawned on him. “Oh God, I haven’t got you a ring. It was a spur of the moment sort of thing - a carefully considered, well-thought-out spur of the moment thing, of course - " he hastily added, worried that she’d think he’d come to regret asking her to marry him when morning came. “The jewellers won’t be open tomorrow, damn. Will you mind waiting until Boxing Day?”

Ever the calm, easy-going one, Charlotte merely kissed him, caressing his cheek. “You know me, I’d settle for a piece of string.”

“God I love you,” he breathed out, deepening the kiss.

Was it not fate that an unexpected and brutal snowstorm forced most airports in the country to close, meaning the holiday they'd booked for Christmas was now cancelled, making them stay in Sanditon, where whilst walking home from the pub Sidney realised that he was irrevocably in love with Charlotte?


	9. a christmas market tour guide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> after a nasty break-up, charlotte gets coerced into attending a group outing to a christmas market, in which sidney has also been pushed into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really do appreciate everyone's patience, and the lovely comments you write. they really make my day!
> 
> enjoy!

As a child, Charlotte had read about heartbreak and despised how the female protagonist would generally handle a break-up; sobbing, shutting themselves away, consuming equal amounts of chocolates and awful rom-coms. When James had broken up with her after a year together, citing his desire to prioritise his apprenticeship in Bristol over their relationship, she was horrified to find herself slipping into the routine she had been so quick to sneer at.

She hardly left her room, popping into the communal kitchen only when she’d ran out of tea. She couldn’t remember the last time she had showered, instead festering in her slightly too-small pyjamas and a cocoon of blankets. She’d plowed through every episode of _Gilmore Girls_ on Netflix in a week, and was now halfway through a rewatch. Her diet consisted of chocolate digestives, instant noodles, and the occasional cheese toastie. The cherry on top of the whole humiliating and painful disaster was that she cried, _a lot_. It didn’t take much to set her off, though it took a good deal of effort to stop her. The first few days had been borderline excruciating, as she’d been forced to peel off all the photos of her and James from her wall; the gaps in her collage served as an agonising reminder that he was no longer in her life.

Not only had Charlotte missed a considerable amount of her Architecture lectures, but she also had missed out on quite a few social events too, including three Student Union nights, eight evenings out with her friends, and a classmate’s birthday drinks. At first they’d been adamant that she needed company, needed a night out at the club to forget about James. They’d take turns to come and check on her, try and convince her to come out with them, even if it just was for a coffee. However, after she’d rejected their countless offers, they’d all left her alone, every now and then dropping her a text. All of them, besides Gigi Lambe.

Gigi lived in Charlotte’s block, and would let herself in at least twice a day to see her best friend. Sometimes it would just be for a quick five minute catch-up, in which she’d attempt to clean up and make Charlotte a cup of tea, other times it would be for a whole afternoon, where she’d snuggle up with her friend under the blankets and they’d watch some cringe-worthy 90’s rom-com - _Notting Hill_ was a particular favourite.

Charlotte appreciated Gigi’s visits more than she let on. After three weeks, she’d become her only port-of-call with the outside world, her only connection to the living. She could always count on Gigi to bring with her some nugget of gossip that would make her forget her own sorry state, even if it was only for a brief moment.

However, one Saturday Gigi had decided that Charlotte had had more than enough time to pity herself. She burst in the room at half seven in the morning, waking her friend from a thirteen hour slumber. Drawing the curtains, she ignored Charlotte’s cries of indignation.

“I’ve bought us both tickets on the next train to London,” she informed her, perching herself on the end of the bed, pinching at Charlotte’s exposed feet. It only irritated Charlotte more, as she pulled the duvet around her head, groaning. “We’re going to the Christmas Market in Hyde Park. I’m not taking no for an answer, Lottie.”

She really wasn’t in the mood. “I don’t want to,” she said, wholly aware of how pathetic she sounded.

Gigi wasn’t as tolerant as she usually was, ruthlessly pulling the duvet from Charlotte, making her shriek. “Come on,” she sighed. Then, more gently she said; “It’s not healthy staying in here anymore. Please, I’m starting to worry about you.”

Charlotte could have easily ignored anyone else’s sympathy, their worry - she had been for weeks. However, the look of concern in Gigi’s eye, somebody usually so stoic and self-controlled, forced her to feel guilty about letting her friend down.

Huffing, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “Fine.”

Clapping, Gigi threw open the tiny closet in the corner. “Let’s find you something cute.”

“Why?”

A pause. “Instagram, duh.”

The hesitation made Charlotte suspect that she was plotting something. However, she was now out of bed and no matter how cosy her duvet was, it wasn't worth the wrath she’d get from Gigi. She even allowed her to pick out her outfit whilst she brushed her teeth; a pair of blue mom jeans, a cosy ivory white jumper and a beige checkered jacket. All ready to go, Charlotte picked up her bag and keys, pocketing her phone, when she saw Gigi’s face.

“What is it?”

“Are you not going to put any make-up on?”

Once again, she sighed. The whole day was starting to feel like one big sigh. “This is a lot of effort just for . . . Instagram."

Gigi merely shrugged. “The internet is forever."

“I’m _this_ close to going back to bed.”

Aware that she was only discouraging her friend, Gigi came up with a compromise. “How about I do your make-up - only the minimum! - and I’ll buy you as many . . . I don’t know, as many mulled wines as you want?”

Charlotte’s mouth twitched. “Hot chocolate instead. With the whole works.”

Beaming, Gigi clapped her hands together again, gleefully. She then instructed Charlotte take a seat whilst she applied her make-up. Fifteen minutes later - so not the bare minimum - she held a mirror up, proud of her accomplishment. Charlotte couldn’t believe how transformed she looked; the bags under her eyes were invisible, her skin was practically glowing, and tactfully applied blush made her seem as though she hadn’t been cooped up inside for three weeks without sun.

“You can admire my masterpiece later,” Gigi said, hauling her friend out the door. “We have a train to catch.”

They boarded the train without a minute to spare, panting and dabbing at the sweat on their brows as they wriggled their way through the compartments, trying to find their companions.

“Who else is coming again?” Charlotte asked, wishing that she had known there was going to be other people before she’d made up her mind. Gigi she could cope with, a whole group of people on the other hand? She wasn’t completely convinced she was ready to be sociable.

“Oh you know, just the usual suspects,” Gigi replied, far too nonchalantly for Charlotte to believe that it was just their usual quartet. “Esther and Clara, of course, Otis too. Also, Crowe and Babington and, um, Sidney Parker, I think.”

Gigi was intentionally avoiding her gaze, as she continued moving through the carriages.

“Really? I’m going to be a . . . _seventh wheel_.” She rolled her eyes, thinking that she could throttle Gigi sometimes for being so clueless. She’d be with her boyfriend all day, Esther with Babington, and Clara would probably give into Crowe’s badgering and walk with him, leaving Charlotte on the outskirts.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have Sidney to talk to,” Gigi pointed out.

Before she could protest, they spotted the cluster of their friends around two tables. At the sight of Charlotte, dressed and out of her room, Clara and Esther got to their feet and threw their arms around her, behaving as though she’d just been released from hospital. They then all sat back down, and Charlotte found herself beside Sidney.

Sidney Parker wasn’t somebody she knew very well, but embarrassingly thought about often. He was older than she was by a fair amount, having taken a gap year that extended to a _gap-three-years_ before attending university. They’d met only a handful of times, mostly at parties, and each interaction was more awkward than the last. You see, Sidney went to school with James back in their hometown of Sanditon, and the pair didn’t always see eye-to-eye.

Now, pressed against him on a moving train, each turn forcing them even closer, she couldn’t help remembering their first encounter.

Their first meeting, at the student bar during freshers week, had been fine. Actually, more than fine - she was certain that he was hitting on her. He had been stood awfully close to her during their conversation and his eyes kept straying from hers. However, the second James appeared and made his way over to her - they had sat next to one another during their first lecture and became fast friends - Sidney became closed-off and left. After that they hadn’t really spoken.

She’d always wondered what would have happened if James had never approached her that evening.

Sidney had the window seat and was gazing out at the scenery, keeping himself to himself. His whole demeanour, detached and reserved, made her suspect that he had been coerced into joining the excursion too.

“Where’s that wannabe Indiana Jones of yours?” Crowe piped up, leaning across the table. His words were slurred somewhat, and he burped mid-sentence; was he drunk already? It wasn’t even ten in the morning! “He has that funny accent. Sounds a bit like a pirate."

Their friends grew silent, as everyone turned to look between Crowe and Charlotte, as though they expected her to burst into tears. “No, it’s alright,” she said, hoping that her steady tone made up for the fact that she really _wasn’t_ alright. "We . . . we, uh, broke up.”

“He’s studying architecture, not archaeology you twat,” she heard Sidney interject. He turned to meet her eyes and offered her an empathetic half-smile, a gesture that stunned her so much she forgot about Crowe’s insensitivity. As conversation amongst the carriage began again, Sidney continued looking at her, rather than returning to his solitude. “Sorry about him. He tends to blurt things out - most of it nonsense - before thinking.”

She waved it off, smiling back at him. “I tend to be the same,” she replied. “Speaking before thinking, I mean. Gets worse with nerves.”

“Hmm, I think Crowe’s gets worse with booze, so I wouldn’t pay much attention to anything else he says today.”

Silence fell over them, though this time it was more comfortable than awkward. Not wanting to halt their conversation, especially since the train ride was a good two hours long, she racked her brain for something to say. She came up short, still unsure where she stood with Sidney Parker. Could she be jovial, joking even? Or should she be insightful, say something meaningful? Or would it be best if she said nothing at all?

Once again surprising her, he spoke first. “Have you been to the Christmas Market in London before?”

She shook her head. “I’ve only been to London once, and it was on a school trip to some science museum.”

“Well, allow me to be your guide,” he said, with a gentleness she hadn’t expected him to be capable of.

Refusing to blush, she beamed. “Deal. As long as you don’t mind putting up with my relentless questions?”

“Ask away.”

-

Sidney really was an excellent tour guide. The group had splintered subconsciously, people tearing off into pairs to explore the vast market. She remained by his side without having to ask if it was alright that she hung around - in fact it was almost expected. He knew the best stalls for her every craving; hot chocolate, mulled wine, roasted chestnuts, crêpes, waffles anything she could name. By the time they’d paid a visit to a stall that sold toffee apples, he’d began chuckling.

“You really have a sweet tooth, don’t you?”

Around a mouthful of the sickly-sweet crystallised apple, she grinned, shrugging. “It’s what Christmas markets are for, isn’t it? Eating your body weight in festive treats.” He agreed with her, caving in as he bought a monstrously big cup brimming with churros, smothered in icing sugar.

Moving away from the food stalls before they were stomachs burst, they began to peruse the stalls for handmade gifts. There were delicate handblown glass baubles, intricate wood carvings, jewellery made from spoons, and breathtaking watercolour portraits. Charlotte was enthralled by it all. However, after polishing off her apple, she found that the winter air had started to nip at her hands, rendering them stiff with the cold. Blowing on them, she rubbed them together in an attempt to regain some feeling.

“Here,” Sidney suddenly said, offering her his own pair of gloves.

She shook her head immediately. “I couldn’t. You still need them.” She got the impression that he didn’t like to be told what he did or didn’t need, so she took them gratefully, sliding her hands into the woollen gloves. They were still body warm, and it felt as though he were holding her hands in his. “Thank you, that’s very kind.”

“I can’t have Gigi thinking I let you freeze,” he joked. He didn’t take compliments very well either it seemed.

As repayment, she bought him a second hot chocolate - with all the trimmings. “To keep your hands warm, of course". His eyes bulged at the amount of cream and marshmallows. He took a cautious sip, not wanting to burn his tongue, a spot of cream lingering on the tip of his nose when he brought the cup away. She couldn’t help but giggle; a man usually so stoic, so straight-laced, it was almost too much to see him looking so ridiculous.

He pretended he couldn’t see a thing, his brow furrowing. “What?”

They continued on around the market, the splotch of cream not once budging. Once in a while his bewildered expression would crack, a grin breaking out across his features. When they met up with the rest of the group by the ice rink, he quickly wiped it off when they all teased him for it.

Gigi took charge, giving all their shoe sizes to the employee behind the counter for their skates. As they all took their seats on the benches, struggling to put the skates on, she approached Charlotte, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

“How you doing, girl?” she asked, discretely.

“Not too bad, actually,” Charlotte responded, suddenly stunned at how calm she’d been all day, how little she’d thought about James - if at all. “Sidney’s been really good company.”

The smirk on Gigi’s face was rather suggestive, and it was obvious she had clocked the pair of unfamiliar gloves on her friend’s hands, but she said nothing. Instead, she squeezed her, raising her eyebrows.

Esther and Babington were first on the ice, Esther as always taking the lead. Clara and Crowe, who had struck up an odd friendship based purely on mutual lust for one another, were next, Gigi and Otis not far behind. That left Sidney and Charlotte on the sidelines. Ready to take off, she glanced at Sidney, and saw that he was somewhat hesitant about leaving stable ground.

He could sense her watching him, and offered her an anxious smile. “Never been able to master this aspect of the Christmas markets, I’m afraid,” he explained. “You’re on your own here.”

Sidney never ceased to amaze her; he’d been subverting her expectations all day, now his usual confident and self-assured nature replaced by a much more apprehensive and shy demeanour taking her completely by surprise. Emboldened by his vulnerability, she reached out at took his hand in hers. “I’ve got you.”

Carefully, she manoeuvred them onto the ice, not once taking her eyes off of him. He resembled a newborn deer learning to walk for the first time, which was endearing and frightening all at the same time - she was now responsible for his safety.

“You’re not looking where you’re going,” he warned her, his voice tense, his eyes wide.

She waved it off. “We’re by the railings, we’re good,” she assured him. Indeed, people were giving them a wide berth. “Copy my movements.”

He did as he was told (another thing to shock her!) and moved his feet in more purposeful motions, with longer strokes. She let one of his hands go, as she swivelled herself around, positioning herself at his side. He could still hold onto the railings if he needed, but he was proving to be much more capable than he believed himself to be.

“Now, push off harder with your feet, and you’ll be able to propel yourself forward,” she instructed, calmly. His grip was tight, but she didn’t mind. “Don’t look down.”

He was a good student, listening to her every word. Eventually, after their friends had passed them several times, he was able to glide along with some ease, though still reluctant to let her go. “I’m skating!” he exclaimed, gleefully. His enthusiasm was almost childlike, and it made her heart burst.

“We’ll soon have you in the Olympics,” she laughed.

For the first time since they’d stepped onto the rink, he looked across at her, his eyes filled with enough warmth to thaw the ice. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you? Skating, and teaching.”

“There’s this pond in my village that freezes over most winters. As I was one of the oldest in my family, it was up to me to make sure none of my siblings fell through the ice. My dad taught me the basics, and I passed it on to them.”

“You’re full of surprises.”

_“Me!”_ she cried, unable to help herself. She flushed, closing her mouth almost as quickly as she had opened it, and wished that Sidney hadn’t heard her. He had. He raised an eyebrow, willing her to elaborate. Sighing, she gave in. “I saw you on the train this morning, all broody and quiet, I wondered what we’d find to talk about. I thought you didn’t really like me, or care. Not only have I been proved to be a _terrible_ judge of character, but I also feel guilty for painting you out to be such a villain.”

Worried that she’d gone too far, that she’d insulted him, she willed the ground to swallow her up. He stopped, forcing her to stop too, as their hands were still linked together.

“You thought I didn’t like you?”

Not what she had expected him to say, she let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in. “Well, we haven’t ever really talked. Not _properly_. And, I was . . . with James, who I knew certainly had nothing nice to say about you.”

He tugged on her hand, pulling her towards him. They were inches apart, the mist from their breaths mingling. “I was never Stringer’s biggest fan, I’ll admit that, but my animosity towards him never extended to you,” he told her, his soft tone promising his honesty. "You're the most interesting person at uni, not to mention the prettiest. I couldn’t possibly _not_ care about you, Charlotte.”

“Oh.”

With his free hand, Sidney reached out and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, his fingertip brushing her skin, sending shockwaves through her body. His touch thus far had been through the woollen gloves; skin-on-skin contact was something else, something electric. She could have sworn he was going to kiss her, and she would have let him too, if he hadn’t stumbled suddenly, falling to the ground, taking her with him.

Her impact as she tumbled was less agonising, as she fell on top of him, his body providing a smoother landing. He groaned, and she was afraid she’d caused serious damage, when he began to chuckle. The laughter ricocheted through his body into hers, making her shake; it also made her intensely aware that their bodies were pressed together. Blushing furiously, she laughed too, though rather nervously. Their faces were now even closer, her hair tickling his cheeks. He was looking deep into her eyes, making her heart beat erratically.

She was certain he was going to kiss her, and was certain she’d have kissed him back.

“You’re a hazard down there, lovebirds!” Crowe called out to them, skating past them. It was frightening how terrific he was on the ice, especially after necking countless amounts of festive cocktails and spirits.

They broke apart, seconds away from sharing their first kiss. Charlotte helped Sidney to his feet, and they began to skate around the rink again, considerably more awkward than they had been before. However, he didn’t let go of her hand, so she took that to be a good sign.

For the first time in three weeks, she wasn’t feeling sorry for herself. She hadn’t cried in at least twenty-four hours, had left the confines of her bed and actually had a good time, and hadn’t been tempted to call or text James - in fact, she had barely spared him a thought. She owed it all to Sidney, and his knack for making her smile.


	10. an unconventional christmas day tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a swim in the sea is the last thing charlotte wants to do on christmas day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm on a roll haha! fingers crossed, you can expect daily updates until this finishes!
> 
> enjoy!

Charlotte had quickly learnt that the Parker family were full of traditions; for example, they would always eat a roast dinner on a Sunday and always go for a walk afterwards and they would always order takeaway on a Friday night (more often than not fish and chips from _Robinson’s Plaice_).

During the holidays, their traditions were endless. All throughout the Christmas period she’d taken part in their array of market visits, carolling, baking, festive film bingeing, etc. She’d had been thrilled to be included, welcomed into their tight knit family dynamic with open arms. When her parents had called her to tell her that they were spending the holidays with her older brother, Will, and his family in the Cotswolds, she decided to stay in Sanditon - Will’s house would be brimming with visitors, she didn’t want to add to the masses. Tom and Mary hadn’t hesitated in offering her a seat at their table for Christmas dinner, insisting she spend the day with them.

Of course, that also meant spending the day with Sidney too.

Her crush on him hadn’t waned as time passed as she had hoped, only intensified. His aloof and hardened exterior had began to crack the longer they knew each other, the pair even sharing inside jokes and would binge watch television series, like Netflix's _The Witcher_, whilst babysitting the kids after they went to bed. She suspected that she was severely out of his league, especially after trawling through his social media accounts one drunken evening with her best friend Gigi, coming across multiple tagged pictures of him in clubs alongside long-legged supermodels.

She found herself sat beside him at the dinner, their elbows and thighs practically pressed together due to double the amount of chairs at the table. At first she’d been unable to think about anything but the warmth radiating off of him, but after half an hour of chatter and drinking, she’d began to ease up a little, the tension in her shoulders loosening.

The Parkers made jovial conversation, filling their bellies with Mary’s world-famous roast potatoes - cooked in goose fat, like Nigella Lawson does she’d proudly proclaimed. Charlotte joined in, enjoying herself immensely. When there was food left at the end of the meal, she could hardly believe it.

“I suppose dinnertime in the Heywood household is chaos, eh Charlotte?” Arthur exclaimed, tucking into his third helping of sage and onion stuffing.

She laughed. “Mum has to start stocking the cupboards in September to make sure she has enough food for the big day,” she told them, to much amusement. “I suspect now that she’s got grandchildren - six, at the moment - she’s given up cooking Christmas dinner for everyone.”

Whilst the table found that rather humorous, Mary shook her head. “Your poor mum!”

“Oh, don’t worry about her, she made sure we all had plenty of jobs to do,” Charlotte assured her.

“What was yours?” Sidney asked, his voice never failing to make her heart flutter.

“Chief carrot peeler, of course.”

They shared a grin, sending the butterflies into a frenzy in her stomach.

After dinner, Charlotte was ready for a decade long nap. However, the Parkers had another idea; “Time for the family swim!” Tom announced, clapping his hands together. The children cheered - clearly this was an event they looked forward to. Sidney and Mary appeared unfazed, as they cleared away the dirty plates. Diana and Arthur were the only ones who shared her reluctance, sighing.

As she helped to tidy away, she could feel the swell of dread building up inside of her. Sensing her sudden silence as unwillingness, Mary squeezed her forearm in an amiable attempt to soothe her. “The water’s actually a lot warmer than you’d think this time of year, especially down south,” she reassured her.

Forcing a smile on her face, Charlotte tried to appear cheerful. “I . . . uh, I’ll have to get some swimwear.”

“You can borrow one of mine if you’d like?”

She shook her head, though quickly expressed her gratitude. “Thanks Mary, but I can just pop over to mine. I’ll only be ten minutes.”

“Alright dear. We’ll meet you on the beach.”

The plates, cutlery and dishes had all been loaded into the dishwasher, whilst the children rushed upstairs to get changed. Charlotte made her way out of the front door, when she saw that Sidney was following her out.

“You don’t mind if I come with, do you?” he asked. It seemed as though he already knew her answer, as he shrugged on his coat.

She smiled at him, her nerves only reinforced. “Not all.”

They made the brisk walk to her cottage in a matter of minutes, making light conversation about how successful Mary’s cooking had been. He was delighted to discover that Charlotte had contributed the smoked salmon canapés, even confessing they had been his favourite part. By the time they’d arrived at her modest house, it had dawned on her that he’d never been inside her home, let alone seen it from the outside. Knowing that he owned multiple properties across the country, and that his last apartment had been valued at £1.2 million, she came over all sheepish.

Her cottage had been the old school house in the 19th Century, the weathered split face stone testament to the age of the cottage. She’d tried to put her stamp on it, painting the window shutters a butterscotch yellow colour and planting various types of flowers in the hanging baskets. After a careful restoration made by the landlord, who of course was none other than Tom Parker, the two-bedroom cottage revealed a modern interior with historic character. Inside, every inch of space was utilised; her dining table sat in her living room, along a wide window. Exposed beams, wood-panelled walls and the log burner were met with contemporary furnishings; the two salmon pink sofas were positioned around the stove fireplace, a lilac rug stretched across the floor, photographs of her friends and family adorning the walls.

Whilst she adored the minimalism of the place, the sea view was her favourite element, and had been pivotal in her decision to rent the cottage.

Sidney was admiring her house with great fondness. “I love what you’ve done with this place,” he told her, running his fingertips along the reclaimed dining table. “I remember when Tom was refurbishing it, he had some . . . insane ideas for embellishment. A glass patio replacing this window-seat for starters.” He shuddered at the memory, making her laugh.

“I just like that I have place of my own,” she admitted, thinking about her ever-hectic childhood home. “And waking up to that view every morning.”

Following her gaze, he looked out the window. “For all the negatives about this town, Sanditon does have an unbeatable view.”

Before she could query his issue with the town, she quickly recalled that he had a sordid history with the place, dating back to his late school years. Still somewhat in the dark about the specifics, she was aware that it all stemmed from a nasty break-up, and knew better than to poke at sore wounds.

Instead, she showed him up the stairs, and gestured to the bathroom he could use to change into his swimming trunks, whilst she disappeared into her bedroom. Rootling through her drawers, she pulled out a ruby red swimsuit with a low back that had been shoved to the back due to low demand for swimwear in winter. She’d been tempted to put on a bikini, take that approach in winning Sidney’s attention, but knew that Christmas Day with the Parkers was not the time or place for such a risqué decision. Perhaps when summer came back around . . .

Besides, she had more pressing matters than looking good.

Now appropriately dressed, slipping on a loose-fitting dress over the swimsuit, throwing her hair up into a low ponytail, she stepped out of her room the same time as Sidney. He was wearing his swim shorts, a red and white striped pair, but had kept his grey knitted jumper on. It made for a rather odd contrast; winter combined with summer wear.

They made their way down to the beach, where they found the Parker clan among a handful of other town inhabitants setting up on the sand. Fortunately, despite the cold air, the sun was shining down on them, making the weather strangely pleasant.

Tom was leading the charge into the water, Henry running after him, his armbands securely fastened. Mary had laid out a platter of mince pies on the blankets, brought for everyone though appreciated the most by Arthur, who had at least made the effort to take his shirt off though still unsure about wading in. Diana seemed to have bolstered some courage in the last fifteen minutes, and was beginning the descent to the water’s edge.

Mary was sat in a deckchair with baby James on her lap, Alicia and Jenny shedding their clothes next to her. She gave Charlotte and Sidney a bright smile as she watched them approach. “Go on in!” she encouraged the pair of them.

Sidney seemed eager, peeling off his jumper. Out of the corner of her eye, Charlotte saw his sculpted muscles, and felt herself blush a little. The girls rushed over to them, yanking at their arms. “Come on!” they groaned, just as impatient as their uncle.

Their snappiness was directed at her, as they waited for her to discard her outer layer. Feeling everybody’s eyes on her, she caved, and wriggled out of her dress. She had hoped to sit in the spare deckchair beside Mary and merely be an observer to the whole affair.

When she’d tossed her dress to the side, revealing the swimsuit underneath, Alicia and Jenny had began to giggle. She furrowed her brow, worried that she’d put it on backwards, or had left the tags on. “What’s so funny?”

“You two are matching,” Jenny said through her laughter, pointing between Sidney and Charlotte.

Indeed she was right; they were both clad in red. As Charlotte glanced over at him, she was treated to an unobstructed view of him in his trunks, shirtless. It made her mouth dry and her heart beat erratically. She knew he frequented the gym, but hadn’t quite realised to what extent that meant; a six pack. He resembled a model from a cologne billboard, and what was worse was that he knew it too.

What shocked her the most, however, was that as she looked across at him she caught him staring at her. Not just her whole being, but specifically her legs. She had never paid much attention to the limbs, though thought them to be far too short and were often covered in a mural of bruises thanks to her clumsiness. Sidney didn’t seem to share her indifference, which made her even more jittery, though strangely smug. No need to have opted for the bikini then.

Realising he’d been spotted gawking at her, he quickly looked away, turning his gaze to the sea. The sun was behind him, and made him appear as though he were glowing. She was finding it difficult to focus on what he was saying, his heavenly body distracting her.

“Fancy a dip?” he asked.

Charlotte glanced towards the sea, and felt her stomach tie up in knots. There were plenty of factors mounting up as to why she did not, under any circumstances, _‘fancy a dip’_. Warily, she shook her head. “Um . . . won’t it be cold?” she replied, searching her brain for a plausible excuse.

Chuckling, he shrugged. “Most likely, not to mention it’ll be teeming with seaweed,” he answered, then realised that he wasn’t making it sound all that enticing. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Brave the waters with me?” Still not convinced, she shook her head again. Sidney's eyebrows furrowed, and he cocked his head to the side. “What’s wrong?” he inquired, in a soft and tender voice.

Taking a deep breath, she found she couldn’t lie to him. “I . . . I can’t swim,” she blurted out, bracing herself for the onslaught of questions, or, worse, judgement. Instead, he merely took several steps closer to her and held out his hand for her to hold.

“I’ll be with you,” he assured her, his shoulder pressed against hers. “I won’t let anything bad happen. I promise."

The way he looked at her, with such warmth and consideration in his dark chestnut eyes, and the way her hand fitted in his all sparked Charlotte to feel confident in his promise. She smiled, though a little nervously, and nodded. Thrilled at her change of mind, he didn’t let go of her hand all they way down to the water’s edge, and he didn’t let go when she dipped her toe in.

“It’s not that mum and dad never took me to lessons,” she stalled, apprehensively glaring at the water. Jenny and Alicia rushed in, unable to wait a second longer, joining their dad and brother. “Because they did. We’d all go to the local pool, when I was growing up. I was so excited to start learning that I insisted my mum buy me this sparkly purple swimsuit with a giraffe on the front. However, the night before our first lesson, Simon thought it’d be funny to watch _Jaws_. Ever since then I haven't been able to bring myself to go near the water."

Sidney, whose fingers were still laced with hers, gave her a broad grin. “Not even baths?” he teased.

Charlotte laughed, easing up slightly. “Well, obviously I have baths,” she replied, raising an eyebrow at him. “But that’s as deep as I go."

“I bet your parents weren’t best pleased when you decided that you couldn’t go in the water."

“Oh, dad was fuming,” she told him. “But not with me. He grounded Simon for three weeks. Of course he feels guilty now, but at the time he blamed it all on me."

It was only when she felt the lap of a wave against her hip did she realise that as she talked, Sidney had slowly been edging her more and more into the water’s depths. She gripped his hand tightly and gasped. He tried to calm her, speaking to her gently, his infectious grin anchoring her - quite literally.

She ran her fingertips through the water, the sensation somewhat soothing. “I’m in the water,” she breathed, disbelieving. Glancing over at Sidney, who had inched nearer to her so that they were now only a few centimetres apart, she beamed. “I’m in the water!"

“You’re in the water,” he repeated, grinning widely. Wading even closer, his hands found themselves on her waist. Her breath hitched in her throat as his hands touched the exposed skin on her back. He’d never touched her bare skin before - hands didn’t count. “Lie back."

“What?"

“Lie back, Charlotte,” he told her. “Trust me.” There was something in his voice that made her do exactly what he asked, their eyes never leaving each other’s.

Heart thumping away inside her chest, she tilted her body back, relying on Sidney’s hands to keep her from slipping under. She found herself floating in the water, looking up at the sky. The feeling was euphoric. Her eyes closed and the sensation made her feel as though she could have been flying.

After another hour or so in the water, Charlotte and Sidney returned back to dry land, laughing out loud. They walked back to the rest of the Parkers, all who applauded and cheered her bravery. Sidney ran a hand through his hair, and she was so completely captivated by him. It was no secret that he worked out, but she hadn’t realised he was so _dedicated_. She had always known he was handsome, but there was something about seeing him so happy, so carefree, and so shirtless that sent goosebumps down her skin.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, that she hadn’t noticed that while she was staring at him, and that he had been staring back at her. She blushed, and he smiled, carefully throwing a towel around her shoulders. He rubbed her arms through the material, warming her up. “You were fantastic, you know,” he muttered, quietly enough that only she could hear him.

Water was running down her face, her hair, which had long since fallen out of it’s ponytail, was sticking to the back of her neck. “Thanks for being so patient with me.”  
“My pleasure,” he replied, softly. “If you want, I can give you lessons when the weather’s a bit warmer?”

She grinned up at him. “I’ll look forward to that.”

“It’s a date.”

“I’m not waiting six months for a date.” She didn’t know what possessed her to say that. She flushed furiously, and prayed that he’d just laugh it off and forget about it.

Instead, he licked his lips and smirked. “How’s next Friday, then?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is what i imagine charlotte's house to look like - https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/holidays/the-old-school-house-durgan-cornwall


	11. lifetime of christmases with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> charlotte and sidney's first christmas together as a married couple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short but sweet one today. please enjoy!

Sidney loved a great many things about Charlotte.

He had first noticed, and he was ashamed to admit it, her beauty. When he’d picked up his nieces and nephews from school, nearly three years ago, and had been introduced to their new teacher, he had found himself at a loss for words. She was unlike anybody he had ever seen before. Her hair was the colour of mahogany, her dark eyes sparkling. She’d had the most gorgeous smile, and her freckles made her all the more endearing.

Next, he’d came to adore her kindness. The tender way in which she took care of the children, the gentleness to her honey-like voice. She had a boundless amount of patience, something he needed to learn.

He’d fallen in love with, however, her intelligence. Yes, she was naive in that way that all young people were; optimistic and hopeful, but her brains were undeniable. She had won every pub quiz they attended together, knew every word that he was stuck on in his crosswords.

By their fifth date, he knew he’d never want to spend his life with anybody else. He’d proposed after a year and half, though had been in possession of the ring for a good nine months prior. They were married in the summer in the quaint little church by the seaside his whole family had been baptised in, and they’d had their reception in a marquee on the beach. Charlotte had been barefoot, her locks free, wearing a flowing white lace gown. He had never loved her more than when she walked down the aisle, knowing that they had the rest of their life ahead of them.

In their six months of marriage, he had come to discover an endless string of things about his new wife that made him fall deeper for her. One of them, for example, was that she was worse than children when it came to Christmas.

She’d insisted on leaving a mince pie and a carrot out for Father Christmas, had bought them both pyjamas to open on Christmas Eve that she insisted weren’t from her, and, to top it all off, had thrown a handful of oats into the grass - _‘reindeer food’_. Her enthusiasm was painfully charming that he hadn’t been able to wipe off a stupid grin all night.

When he woke up on Christmas Day, he wasn’t surprised in the least to see her sat in the windowsill, wide-eyed. She must have been awake a good couple of hours. She had been too excited to occupy herself with a book, so had instead waited patiently for him to wake. He laid there for a moment or two, simply watching her quietly, imagining a lifetime of Christmases with her.

Eventually she sensed his eyes on her, so turned to face him, an infectious beam stretching across her features. She leapt off the windowsill and jumped back into their bed. Her cold feet brushed his exposed ankles, sending a shiver down his spine.

“You’re like a block of ice,” he muttered, wrapping his arms around her, holding his wife as close to his chest as possible.

“Merry Christmas,” she told him.

He smiled, his hand rubbing circles into her back. “Merry Christmas, darling.”

They remained like that, in their embrace, for little over twenty minutes. Eventually excitement overcame them both, and they whipped back the duvet. Sidney watched as Charlotte opened their bedroom door and found their stockings brimming with presents, unable to stop a grin from spreading across his features.

“You didn’t?” she gasped, picking them up and placing them back down on the bed.

He shrugged. “Not me,” he teased. “Father Christmas.”

Charlotte’s mum had surprised him with his very own stocking, after finding him one whilst shopping for her newest grandchildren, ten month old Erin and six week old Nathan. It was a Heywood tradition, that everyone in the family owned a stocking with their initial on. Charlotte’s was her own from childhood, and Sidney couldn’t remember where his had been put - in all honesty, he had never been that sentimental before, and suspected it had been thrown out at the first sign of wear and tear. When his mother-in-law had arrived at their cottage with a stocking for him, he had nearly welled up. To be included with such open arms was everything he’d ever wanted.

Knowing that of course he had been the one to fill their stockings, Charlotte leant over and threw her arms around his neck. “You’re such a big softie really."

They began to open their first presents, all trinkets, really. The usual stocking fillers; socks, pens, sweets, even an orange. However, at the bottom, Charlotte pulled out a little box. She furrowed her brow and gave him an inquisitive look. She lifted the lid, carefully, and gasped. Inside was a pair of moonstone earrings, the exact (replica) pair she’d lost on their wedding day. They’d been a present from her grandmother for the something old part of the saying as they had been handed down through the family for decades. She’d been devastated when she’d realised they were lost the next day.

“Oh, Sidney,” she muttered, pressing an ardent kiss to his lips. “You’re . . . you’re so wonderful. I love you, so much.”

Running a hand through her hair as she climbed into his lap, he beamed. “Didn't I promise to be the husband you deserve?"

"You've made good on that promise ten times over, and it's only Christmas."

Her fingertips were caressing his jawline, trailing down his neck, making him shudder. "We have a lifetime of Christmases together, Lottie. I’ll never stop striving to make you happy."

She kissed him again, and again, and again, until their pyjamas had been discarded onto the floor.


End file.
